180

Lillian came upon the quarrel in the mildest way possible, the mildest one can expect between two rowing lances. Her school days she could not see the end, strange considering that she could see her remaining days were numbered.

What was the society becoming of? What was the responsibility of a group? Who ruled a group, who made the group, were it a disparate entity from its constituents, something more than the collection of each? What should it aim for, should there be an aim?

“None a chance should be given” Aothe asserted beside her. A society would only be held when a purpose is gained. Then the purpose of it should be the collective common ground of its members, based on the crude definition, all should stand!

“How is it then for the eyes of the bull to be passed down?” Yekaterina queried from the other side.

Aothe flinched. She sensed something coming. Something evil. Inside the definition, innate in the colloquial of men lay something that would cause the destruction(of everything) all stood for.

Yekaterina shouted: “Never is a world without sin! Repentance should men do!”

Aothe cried out in lament, “Never had a pair of eyes seen such catastrophe! Malarkey, optimism is a piece of!’

Lillian wailed in despair. This wasn’t what she thought to be, this wasn’t what she knew about the world. Why, why should a pen be invented, should homo sapience have the urge to record?

A world devoid of will, majestic is thy skills, but the adroit only shall be the key… the message echoed the hall, ricocheting off walls.

78 looked up from the story. The bell had rung.

“What a queer story” 78 thought. It was the first time he had ever read a literary composition of the kind. 87 came near. “God, what a novel, eh?”

87 was always cheerful. Maybe it was because he was over everyone’s head all the time. His smile always resembled a smirk, and there was something in his posture that he was not revealing all he knew, things that he wasn’t meant to know. ‘I’m being a phobia’ 78 told himself. He liked 87, it was that he was sometimes jealous of his intellectual prowess. 80 came up.

“Want to take the same way home?”

“Sure” 78 replied. He and 80 went to the bike rack. They found another 80 and 77, whom gleefully joined them. The group got onto their bikes and kicked the ground and in minutes they were airborne. 78 saw that 80-the other one that he met at the bike stand-‘s bike needed an upgrade, his energy converter wasn’t functioning correctly, and his rotational energy was being converted to an excess of potential energy by deducting the bike’s kinetic energy, resulting in him flying little above others, huffing and puffing while trying to catch up with them. They looked at each other, and with a nod, all the group were traveling a bit higher, and bit slower to match pace with the second 80. The guidance laser soon converged to mainstream traffic and they were traveling at a swift speed. They zipped past a group of 15s and with adrenaline in their system, even took over a flock of 19’s, frightening a 19.253 almost off her bike. It was only when they started worrying about what will happen to the 19.253 did they notice the speed with what they were traveling.

‘Aothe’, 78 remembered.

“Slow down!” 78 screamed to others, and the group instantly bump-landed on a field of grass 5 meters below. The group looked around, and saw, in the direction they were heading, a disturbance in the energy field. Had they travelled faster, the guidance laser might not have been able to hold.

“Gosh”, the closer of the 80 said.

“How’d ya know that?” asked 77.

78 was stunned as well. ‘The story….’ He thought. The story had saved him. And he had a freaky feeling that this wasn’t going to be the last.

“Hello? Earth to 78?” A pair of fingers snapped under his nose, jumping him awake.

“Oh, uh… I don’t know exactly, maybe I saw the disturbance while looking at the trees nearby” 78 said, not believing it himself as he said it. The guidance laser was too thin to be seen by a rider of any transportation.

“Well, mr. 78, you sure did a good job in keeping your friends’ wits alive” said a husky voice behind them.

They whirled around to find a 76 social guardian behind them.

“and others’ lives as well” The social guardian continued. “Your sudden reaction to the situation triggered an automatic regional re-check, and it found a group of trash clogging the laser output system”

“To you, Mr. 78, I have more good news” the guardian continued, “along with the acute sense of abnormality recognition you showed in the last exam, the autonomous cognitive society just told me to notify you that you are now an 83”.

Now that surprised 78, or 83 who had previously been 78. The other members of the group seem enticed as well, especially 80 in whom 83 thought he saw a pang of jealousy. But that wasn’t surprising, he and 80 has been friend from birth, both of them coming from the 80’s family, and though both of their numbers incremented with age, he seldom overtook 80, who in most situations seemed to get the upper hand.

A beep sounded from the guardian’s belt, and with a quick wave, he was gone to solve another problem that needed the society’s attention. It took few seconds for the boys to comprehend it all in, for it was rare that someone got promoted by a situation other than one’s scores. But still, when the expression of a certain skill accumulated, it did happen in these kinds of results.

“Let’s go now” 83 said. He was the automatic leader now, and the others consented without flinching, maybe being exclusive to the first 80, who seemed a bit uncomfortable, but he didn’t say anything nonetheless...

They soon arrived at the clean, tidy neighborhood that served as the homes for many 70s and 80s. Without further conversation, as there was no need for it, the small group dispersed into their own houses.

“Hello 83” said the projection of his mother’s face that showed up on the doorway. He gave a nod, smiling slightly, for he knew his mom has been notified of his promotion, which was important, but not a seldom-happening event for ambivalent teens. The house was quiet, as both his parents were out, as were many 80s whose skills were much envied by the society. He went to his room and took out the novel that has been, in a sense, his hero of the day. This novel really intrigued him. It was, of what he hitherto read, the first of its kind. And for another first, he sat down to read it without any logical reason. He dwelled on the option for a while. Why would he be willing to do anything at all without reason? Then again, he recalled a section from the novel.

Lillian walked alone to class. She was feeling despondent for no reason. The world seemed too callow, or was it her thoughts that got too mature to fit the society? She was mulling over this and that, all leading to how unfair the world could be, never doing justice to her real passion and ability. She was indeed surprised when she was just about to turn a corner she heard low voices from the other side. Surely there would be no one to come here before she did; it harmed her pride of coming to class before anyone. Lillian stopped in her tracks, surely that voice was Aothe’s, and that low, but surging voice, that was Yekaterina’s. Lillian didn’t like eavesdropping on people, but this time she had no other option. The murmur was dying away, maybe they were moving to the other side of the hall, she could only hear distinctive words like ‘veil of ignorance’, ‘true meaning of intelligence’ and she could overhear no more.

‘pah, philosophy’. Lillian thought. Normally she took great care with which to approach a topic, and normally, she respected philosophy very much. But today, she felt abject hopelessness at how only trivial changes can thoughts make, and dislike upon fancy words without real actions…

But then, wasn’t that what she had been doing ‘till now?

Nowhere, 83 thought, nowhere in this dialogue did people do things by coercion, as he automatically flicked through the pages of the book. Strange, for whilst no one in the book was compelled to do something and nothing would be done by anyone without adhering to egocentrism, the characters here were otherwise. They were in a sense logical, but he could never sense that logic surface…

Then again, he realized he didn’t know the number of the teacher who gave this to his class. Who was it? He couldn’t remember if it was even a male or female. The only fact he could scavenge from his memory was that he was a substitute teacher. How strange… But he/she had the ambience of a much higher level, he/she didn’t quite seem like a 70, which were the average of normal teachers.

A sound. 83 looked out the window. A flock of 9s or 10s were jostling by, sweeping the streets clean of litter. A female of the group cackled an order, and the others deformed and lined up. ‘She would be at most about 5 higher than others…’ 83 thought to himself.

‘A world devoid of will, majestic is thy skills, but the adroit only shall be the key…’ What did it mean? A world without will? How can that be? A world will only be intact if a will is present? Everyone has some kind of innate passion flowing through their veins, a destiny, they say, that’s defined even before birth. A reason to live life full. They were the things constituting the society’s engines. Was the writer, though he could imagine no one who would be able to compose such a piece, being dystopian? It was simply intolerable that such a thought was to be born. It was just so obvious a fact. Around him were people going about in their daily routine gaily as always, glad to find a society needed of their skills. Even the one-digit people had a cause, a purpose to live. Why would one live without meaning? Wasn’t that why his society was so peaceful, that destiny was achieved to the greatest level, with the nurturing program for children to help blossom such skills, that no labor went idle and all the society’s needs filled? Everyone knew his or her place, knew of his or her devotion, as it was analyzed by the state-of-the-art software which notified people of their aptitude. It was so economical, so efficient, that no one had to waste time trying out unsuitable professions, with the society his ancestors created aiming to a utopia of a kind, where every individual could pursue the best of oneself, the society right beside to help one with every step until everyone achieved the ideal, stable orbit in the multitude.

‘Gosh’ 83 realized. This was exactly the thing today’s assignment was for. If he were to trim this more, he may be able to get a better score than 80’s for today’s assignment. He quickly put on his headset and scanned his brain to create the mindfile for his thoughts today.

A call. Caller ID: 50.734. 83 had no known acquaintance with a 50. ‘Someone with a wrong number or a stupid call’, 83 thought and rejected the call.

***

84 pedaled home. He was feeling awesome. His mindfile was highly approved and just one day after being a 80, he was almost halfway to being a 90. His parents will appraise him highly, for such a feat was hard to achieve. 87 seemed to consider him once again as well. A shadow. He looked back. The substitute teacher!

“Hello mis….” 84 started. He stopped. He still couldn’t figure out his teacher’s gender. His eyes were brighter than the most agile of men, but his gestures were kinder than the gentlest of women. The teacher talked before 84 could ask.

“I called you yesterday, but you didn’t seem to have been available”

84 was surprised. Nor did he not remember the teacher calling him, he would never have rejected a call from the teacher.

“Did I?” 84 asked.

He flicked open his personal. Time: 2032. Call: rejected. Caller ID: 150.734.

Yekaterina shouted: “Never is a world without sin! Repent should men do!”

Aothe cried out in lament, “Never had a pair of eyes seen such catastrophe! Malarkey, optimism is a piece of!’

Lillian wailed in despair. This wasn’t what she thought to be, this wasn’t what she knew about the world. Why, why should a pen be invented, should homo sapience have the urge to record?

A world devoid of will, majestic is thy skills, but the adroit only shall be the key… the message echoed the hall, ricocheting off walls.

“Deception!” a women’s voice shrieked.

“All is done, all is judged, all were born with execution timed in!”

“I have been very intrigued by your thoughts.” The teacher, or 150.734 said.

“How did you know?” 84 asked.

“All the information is uploaded to the cloud, you just have to look for the right path to it.”

“But you gave the call only minutes later I stored it”

150.734 smiled kindly, like a parent carefully chastising a young infant.

“veritas sit potential, veritas libero, veritas est liber. Knowledge is power, knowledge is freedom, and knowledge is free. Knock and you shall receive.

You have great capacity to think. I would like to see that fully utilized.”

84 was puzzled. This wasn’t making any sense. A legendary 3-digiter was talking to him kindly, almost ‘respecting’ him, he was hearing weird sounds, something that had a lot of ‘very-toes’, and…

“But my analysis never said anything about capacity of thinking” 84 asked, knowing he sounded a lot more baby-like than he preferred it as.

“Exactly” replied 150.734 as if all were clear, at least to him.

“You don’t yet have decimals, you still are malleable, you can change to be what you never thought possible. Read that phrase again. Read and reread it, I’ll be honing in on your mindfiles.”

With that, 150.734 left. Stunned by the abrupt departure, he kicked the ground, trying to ask him or her what he or she meant, only to find that there were no lasers guiding him to the direction the teacher left.

It was all too weird. He had never been told, no one has ever been told of a skill that wasn’t described in the analysis by the autonomous software that articulated the panorama of skills a person possessed, and even if one were to do so, never would they appraise it so highly of the thing that was missed by the software’s rake. Then why was he concerned about it?

‘Logic, logic, all must be dominated by, and be suppressed by it’, he told himself, a practice he learned to do when the mind was contaminated by animalistic instincts.

‘But wait’ he thought. Of logic and his wants, which must he choose? For he had never been notified how to act upon a junction like this, ‘and why not?’ he questioned himself, ‘Because the choices hitherto never had such differences, the society’s wants were for his own good, and deeds for his pleasure benefitted the society, albeit not with 100% efficiency at all times.’

A greater question loomed out of the darkness: ‘what will he have done if he was without 150.734’s advice?’

‘Will’, his brain rattled, as the word stroke his skull like a chisel kissing cave. ‘A world devoid of will!’ His will was what he wanted. Before now, it had been his destiny, created along the genesis, and described by the software. It was for the fulfillment of this that 84’s society existed, which at the same time couldn’t have existed without. He wanted what logic needed, as the virtue of his life was the efficiency of how he carried out the needs of the society. But now… the road diverged. What did he want?, he inquired. He found now, that he enjoyed the process of thinking, and if the findings of 150.734 was right, he was good at it as well. Never before did he feel such lucidity, such a flood of ideas and terms, an ongoing pursuit for an entity he never felt with such zeal. His will, 84 concluded was thus what he wished to do, what he wanted to do, an option of his choice. Then he realized that it was the factor of choice that made all pieces come to place, that made will an undefiable force. It was because he chose, no matter the logic behind that made will the most powerful unit of processing hierarchy. 84 felt light-headed. Then it was in this that the world divided, of the causes for society and the will of individuals. And in a society of such, a will would hold valid only until it adhered to the pursuit of the majority, and even then, a will it would be not for it went against the definition 84 now agreed to see as ‘will’. A world devoid of will, indeed, those two were never compatible in the presence of the other, as the success of one meant the failure of the other. This was a stunning realization; he now achieved something without labor, but by a simple flow of his interest, a hidden side of society. He felt this would be the thing 150.734 wanted, the thing he or she expected of him, and yes he must be quick in uploading this to the cloud lest he forgot the insight he just gained. And for the first time, he felt happier than ever as the machine hummed again to scan his brain, and for the first time, he didn’t care, for it was the first time he was aware…

150.734 looked at his omniscreen. 84 had uploaded a file, and as his hand reached for the mindfile, he felt what he hadn’t felt for a long time: excitement. “Buds bed quietly in the presence of the flower, for you cannot hate the fruit because of the aroma of the petals” he murmured to himself, the teaching that he looked at when something unexpected, something long lost, returned. As the world, a universe opened within him, exploding to a cascade of thoughts, of beauty, of art at the touch of his fingers, he was sent soaring beyond the clouds. Here, the worlds lay. His mind connected the dots, the discrepancies all bulging forward at once, like a pack of hyenas looking for prey, only to retreat as obsolete at the moment of his cognition. 84 was a gem, and he was one determined flow of magma.

He woke. The ceiling was bare. He inquired for a first time, why was it so? It was because he felt no need to adorn it. He closed his eyes for a moment. He opened his eyes. A city, gleaming in its heyday, issued its glamor like a warrant in front of his eyes, mandating awe and respect from any spectator. Glistening in the sun, every spark was a geyser, a brilliance of a sword penetrating the icy clear sky, a sky without clouds as to hinder every attempt to estimate its height futile. From the heavens descended a spear, its darkness illuminating the pit-black space. From his stance rose rigs of swords meeting the grand spear, all so crystal in its elegance and fragility. A gladiator could be seen thrusting the blade into the air, an act of pure offense, the defenseless pride and hope honing in on the target. This gladiator was no mercenary; this was no act of cowardice or obtuseness, for there glistening in his eyes was the confidence that made every fear flee for its life. The image disappeared. The vision darkened as the room lightened. 84 sat upright in his bed. The curtains were parting, and as if for the first time, he saw the city caught in a glare that was unprecedented in nature and in definition. And as the automaton warmed the room and flooded the room with soft light, for the first time, his life bore neither hindrances nor handicaps. He knew his ignorance.

He chose. 84 made up his mind.

His mind was blank for the first time, and his arsenal was full to the top. He had every reason to leave. He had every reason to stay. He was ‘inclined’ now, to go. Thus he would, he will. He had. He had left for school. The road was clear. The lasers were at this time, sharp veins among the overarching apexes of architecture. He flew across the city, the bike responding to his demand of speed. His legs must be pumping like crazy, but he felt no fatigue, wind didn’t slap his face but only breezed his hair backwards, every turn should be an effort, but his turns were perfect. He knew what he was doing. It was without the smallest of difference, but he knew clear as day that this was his first time riding this bike. The One-the name suddenly popped to his mind and he recognized that it was the name of his mentor, he identified it as his, or hers, with unlimited certainty-had told him stories, and he had understood without understanding it. He had asked for truth-none other than veritasitself, the word whose spelling flowed from his heart-veritas he had asked, and veritas he had acquired, albeit a portion thereof. He requested.

The sky suddenly turned dark, the overhead flashing shadows, and 84 glimpsed for the short moment it did, a red ball of light right over his vision.

The One emerged from the haze. He had seen… things. Those were things of wonder, thoughts of heaven and feelings of doom. 84 was learning to think at an incredible speed, every thought a leap forward from before. The thoughts 84 formulated were diverse, as 84’s cognitive power exploded upon everything 84 saw and felt, leaving a trail of garden blossoms as he went along with his life. His life, The One knew, would be turned to an angle that would from then be unrecognizable. 84 will jump down from the perilous rope-walking he and everyone else had been doing, and sprout wings to cast evil on the society. For The One saw, 84’s thoughts discriminated nothing as discrepancies lay everywhere. The trajectory 84 drew while falling from the rope was distinct, the path he took in life manifested by fallen petals. It was growing unmistakable of the power of the intelligent, and it was now time for The One to teach his pupil some manners in destroying the world.

His thoughts reached this much when he sensed eerie calmness, the peace before the storm. Tension crackled in the air, the arid air conveying the power of the storm that was soon to come. Had he given too much power to 84 already?

The sky turned black as for the first time in his life, The One saw the gleaming ball of fire that was the center of his solar system.

***

The sky was blue again, cloudless as ever, its turquoise calm promising peace to the inhabitants who lived under it. Yet a sense of uneasiness passed through the morning crowd as bikes zoomed past and trains filled and dumped passengers at various stations. The mindless cheerfulness was gone, but The One knew that it would be restored in a moment’s notice.

The three sat earthbound on the hillside as three pairs of eyes looked at yet another gleaming sunset surfacing below the horizon. The night brightened as darkness illuminated space, conjuring up in the wind an ambience of mortal liveliness. Behind them, lights were lit, paying homage to the void which light created with its genesis, void which immersed the castle in the shadows of its flicker. In front of them the empty lake threw the scene into pitch blackness, casting shadows of the three mortals who now stood upon the stormy grass.

“Howls” Yekaterina murmured.

“The wind howls in the throat of the beast”

Aothe finished the sentence: “cursing its winding path through the depth of the sky”

“Serpent shall be slayed with knife subtle to the touch, its crimson flesh bridging the voids above the brimming nectar.”

The three nodded, two grim, one puzzled, yet the consent universal.

“Flee” Lillian pulsed, and the building around them erupted into flames.

The One scooted the lanes, his motorbike zooming past all others.

‘Where is he?!’ The One screamed in inaudible fright.

The One found 84’s bike, for sure, but 84 himself was nowhere to be seen. He couldn’t imagine why 84 would abandon such a precious gift. It was a machination of the highest quality, everything from a high-capacity rechargeable battery to brainwave readers packed into such a slim design. The One was very surprised by 84’s progress. His time checker showed that he had left the house early, likely skipping breakfast and mandatory briefing sessions. But there still was ample time between 84’s waking up and his leaving the house. What hitherto happened was sure to have its incubation in that period. Suddenly, no lasers were guiding him as his bike went through freefall…

Shouts. Screams. Three pairs of eyes that once paid tributes to the dying incarceration of the sun were now closed. Three pairs of legs pumped in their place, moving the earth underneath. Illegal. The word lingered above their minds. Sin. The word was carved deep into the book their minds were holding. Illegal. How can it be illegal? Bags were weighing the three girls down, but they were trained. Trained for days and weeks and months… all for this one day. Around them other figures could be seen running into the woods. The building was in an uproar as the pursuers found their search had lacked the element of surprise they had been counting on. Hooded figures crashed objects around the halls, not able to hide their anger at what they unearthed. Yet others, with more patience, spilled onto the grass, pursuing the shadows that were quickly dispersing into the darkening woods. Engines started in roars, but the jeeps and trucks the thugs brought were unsuited for a pursuit in the woodlands. They almost reached the forest when they heard a bloodcurdling scream. 2’o clock to where they were standing, another pact of girls had reached the shadows of the comforting trees, but one girl had fallen, obviously spraining her ankle. The hooded men were racing in the direction of the scream. They could make it to the girl before the men did, they were sure, they were skilled at running. But the chances of getting away safely, with the girl, were slim. They knew what they had to do. They kept running, running, and they were into the woods. Just before the bushes became too thick to obscure their view, they could see the dim outlines of the girl’s companions taking over the sprained girl’s possessions. The girl was without hope, and the girl knew it too. They all knew the rules. They were a society, a society of determined individuals. The girl would give over her responsibilities to those who would take over her duties. They were small in number, but they were strong in the sense they were undefeatable until to the point every one of them were dead. Gunshots. They needn’t remind themselves of the demise that had taken over the girl. What was important was to run. So that the girl’s sacrifice wouldn’t have been in vain.

150.734 was stunned. But senses quickly kicked back into work. The engines of the motorbike roared, and he was again driving through the city. 84. He must be near. He looked left, right and below, but there were only streams of bikes and trains on laser roads, which blatantly refused to harbor any kind of refugee in its gleamingly slim limitations. Slowly, dread coming over his vision, The One looked: up.

Huffing and puffing, the three humans never seemed to give order for the three pairs of legs to cease running. The air was bright hot in its flagrant indictment of the three girls.

‘So the time has come’ Aothe could hear the shards of her mind tearing the words.

The serpent had finally come down from the hell above. But the warrior never did rise up from the ground. Oh where oh where? ‘The world was a cruel place.’ Her teacher had said. ‘But allthemore beautiful because there still lives denken. Denken would never abandon them, her teacher had said, but where was it to be seen now?! Caught in the wall of light that now imprisoned them, Aothe could see no warrior coming to their rescue. The serpent had come down from the sky with no obstructions, its scales glimmering and slick as they unsheathed the deadly beauty inside it. The girls were lack in their caution. The girls had let their guards be lowered. They were too tolerant in letting themselves be overcome with the idea that the serpent was never to descend, that it was not to come down from the hell it coiled in fright of the sword that waited it. They all knew that it was false, but the thought was just too sweet to abandon. And by indulging themselves to the luxury of self-exultant, they have brought their own despair and doom. They had never cared to think, no, thought but never allowed themselves to recognize, that the reason for the serpent’s recoil was to wait for the right time to strike. That the serpent was sure of their vulnerability from the start, and so had waited, calmly, hungrily, hiding its lethality in its sweetened bane. Its eyes had followed their every move, slithering the horizon which put out the stars, pulsing the beat that dyed the sky darkest crimson, waiting for its prey to fatigue themselves down. Now it struck. When the three girls were at the height of their triumph, in the deepest corners of self-assurance, the snake had chosen to dive. Now its teeth were stripping the three girls bear. Every tattered piece of hope they managed to cover themselves, the serrated fangs ripped from their skins. Every mangy piece of trust they wore, the scales of the serpent chafed away, coiling its glittering body around the three girls. The lean muscles took its toll around the girls’ neck, tightening, tightening. Suffocating them not in corporeal, but in mental.

Yekaterina shouted: “Never is a world without sin! Repent should men do!”

Aothe cried out in lament, “Never had a pair of eyes seen such catastrophe! Malarkey, optimism is a piece of!’

Lillian wailed in despair. This wasn’t what she ached to be, this wasn’t what she knew about fiction. Why, why should those lean eyes be created, should ape-man be given the urge to pursue?

A world devoid of will, majestic is thy skills, but the adroit only shall be the key… the message echoed the sky, ricocheting off stars.

“Deception!” a women’s voice shrieked.

“All is done, all is judged, all were born with intelligence timed in!”

The steamboat geyser was the world’s tallest active geyser. The anger of the Earth spraying into the air a column of boiling water over 90m tall. The molecules of water were so majestic as it dwarfed the trees in Yellowstone, so strong as it ripped human vision in two, so ethereal as it put out the unquenchable sun. Time seemed to stop in its eruption as He the Lord let the world view his majesty, his power to all man living beyond the horizon of its stream.

Anger fueled them. The girls have been deceived by the world, by the adults, by the books. They were nothing but fallacies designed to keep the girls ignorant of the bloodthirsty reality of the world. They have estimated that she and her friends were too weak to stand against reality, that they were prone to kneel in front of the whip that will slay their brain to pieces, that they will beg and wail for forgiveness for deeds they have, and have not committed. And now in the glare of the serpent, Aothe knew they were right. Had she known the harsheness of the world, the cruelty of the hands that will oppress them until they were just a smudge against the corner, she would not have done what she had vowed to do. Suddenly a deer was illuminated in the shrubs, its white eyes gaping in horror and silence of this deadly match. It was when Aothe turned to look back at those blank, lifeless eyes that she recognized the speed with which they were running. They were going so fast. They were running with all they had. One could never run so fast with recognition. They were running, leaping, sprinting over the grass leaving nothing. Bolting across the meadow away from reality, away from fact, away from their home. One cannot run so fast without being blind, one could NOT RUN SO FAST AWAY FROM WHAT SHE LOVED WITHOUT LOSING ALL SHE HAD TO LOVE.

“STOOOOP” Aothe cried out.

And the three girls crashed, tumbling over the grass, down from the surface of consciousness, bowling over moist grass that cushioned their fall, tumbling down the alley of million thoughts, ricocheting away in the shadow gallery of all hopes and dreams, until they landed in a heap of sobbing body beside a base of a tree. The serpent thrashed. Its acute nose amazed in disbelief of losing its prey. The girls cringed as the dark comforting sky went ablaze with the fury of the beast. The night was upturned by the roar of the monster, the thunder of the devil’s agony and hatred. The wind was screeching the lamentation of the whipping blades as blood, crimson hot blood dripped from the background of the enraged beast.

The building was in shutdown. 150.734 had no title to close the whole building, but 150.734 also had no reason not to be cautious. 150.734 now knew that 84 was far more intelligent than he observed. He had woken up a titan, opened up the Pandora’s box that unleashed a force that no one yet knew how to control. 150.734 raced up the stairs to the lifts. An officer came to him, half-sprinting from the other side of the arcade.

“We found him. We had to do a full-scale search to find him.”

He took the diagram into his portable, and started off to the direction the screen on his wrist was pointing: Up

***

The boy stood in the far corner of the room. The wall behind him was all glass, stretching the panorama of the city in its transparent cage. He touched the icy glass, looking down on the maze millions of lasers created between soaring skyscrapers. And here he was, greatest of all, above and below the apex of human civilization, the midpoint of what was created by men’s craving to annex the dreams. Knocks.

“Come in” the boy said, without turning from the vista he for the first time could enjoy, could appreciate with all that was left of his heart.

Men and women entered the room. People in formal wear they were, like all other members of the society, but theirs had an aura different from all others. He could see through the door that there were younger members of the pact as well. Some were even younger than he, standing against the hall opposite the door to the room. But it was only the adults who entered the room, the last of them being 150.734 as he expected. The stream of men and women whose sudden mesmerizing prescience was unasked lined up in the wall opposite to the window. 84 slowly turned around, facing the wall that was now adorned with people of stifling elegance. For a minute, nothing but silence passed between them. Then, 150.734 chuckled. 84 flinched.

“You have created some fine barrier to your thoughts, 84.” The One took a step forward.

“Surprisingly well-built taking into account you have never been taught of thought-defense.”

All the other people took a step away from the wall as well.

“Come. 150.734 said in an assuring tone.” 150.734 beckoned. “We do not wish to pry out your thoughts. We would prod no more.” He promised.

“We want you to tell us with your own words”

84 swallowed. He wet his lips. He recognized these people though he had never met them before.

“I will” He replied.

“But only if you would answer my questions as well” He spoke of an addendum.

“We will” 150.734 promised once more. “That was our purpose of coming here anyway.” He and his colleagues sat down on the 10-meter-long table set out in the room.

“Now” 150.734 started. “What was your purpose of cutting the tether?”

The flames ran upwards as the burning cast downwards. The serpent has been waiting for their weakest parts to emerge, for their acme of pride and self-value to appear. All of those patience for the greatest damage, the deepest pain, and the bottommost of hopelessness. For the infliction of maximum torment the serpent had waited. All this time, the girls had not counted on the patience on the gladiator. For it too has waited, covering its glistening sword, driving it deep into the now-lifeless heart to have no essence left in it. The serpent fell from the sky, its illumination casting an ominous light on the ground beneath. The three girls watched in deep fascination and horror as all around them, the forest went ablaze with the roar of the gladiator retaliating against the stunned serpent. The girls were fast to their feet, gathering their precious items again and running yet again deeper into the woods, the darkness that always provided shelter to the weak. Run! Their run now was now not an escape, but a search, the reaching out to grasp what they have so long been excluded of. They passed the ditch where the team in front of them had passed. The makeshift projectiles were strewn on the floor of the ditch. The girls ignored the weaponry and ran faster still. They had no use of further violence as they knew their pursuers cannot reach them now. They could sense groups of darkness again. Soon, they knew, they would unite again, in a world where the light, not the darkness would harbor their souls, their hopes and their dreams.

“Where does the tether lead?”

“You mean you didn’t know the utility of that tether?” 150.734 asked a reply. 84 shook his head. All I knew was that it was very important for the city. He turned around and gazed at the silent ceiling, as if he was waiting for what was beyond the concrete slab to reveal itself.

“That is…” 150.734 started to reply, when with a rumble, the ceiling opened itself, laying a strip of itself down, revealing a staircase within the structure leading to the top floor.

150.734 was on the floor, groaning in pain.

“You will lead no more, Custos” A man stepped out of the line.

“84” he paused. “The naming can wait. For now, let me take you to your explanation”

84 was bit stunned. The moment the ceiling opened at his command, the moment The One, or Custos, as it was revealed, jumped forward to intercept him, a brainwave of such force and might had knocked 150.734 down to the ground. He did not know if the same attack could be applied to him, and moreover, would he be able to use the same attack.

The burly man was already halfway up the stairs. The others were obviously waiting for him to go up. Tentatively, he sprinted up the stairs out into what was now broad daylight. Or, what should’ve been broad daylight. He gaped in amazement as he appeared on a platform facing an ink-black sky. But it seemed impossible, as right above them, the ball of fire and light that he saw previous that day, was shining ever brighter. He jumped when the man’s hand fell on his shoulder.

“It was the scene you have created few hours ago. Why are you so stunned?” he said with a grin. Yes it was the scene he’d seen that morning, with only the sky under the platform blue and clear. But it had all been in a glimpse. He’d not been able to observe the vista as carefully as he did now. The only thing he had seen and memorized that morning was the tower he was standing on right now, the grandest, tallest of all skyscrapers, and the only structure whose top penetrated the thin blue sheet covering the entire city skyline. It was why he chose to come to this building, and still, he’d never imagine he could actually be over the blue atmosphere.

He suddenly looked up. ‘The tether!’ And there it was, the tether fastened tight to the building, going in, in, in through the top down to the basement of the building itself.

The burly man grinned, turning around to face him. He heard the door click shut behind him. 84 turned around to see all the members of this,,, ‘league’ spread out on the wall with the door. He could not see nor sense another exit. 84 dodged and lunged for the door. The men in front of the door fell to the ground and the door opened at his command, his body escaping the platform with the tiniest loss… Or should he? He already came this far. These men were different; these were people like him, yet more knowledgeable. He couldn’t risk going on a fight with opponents he did not know. What’s more, they obviously were in rule of the city, and 84 did not know about life outside the city parameters, not to mention that his power could only be derived from the structure of the city himself. He would be powerless without the city system. Finally, 84 managed to ask: “What is this?”

“This”, the burly man replied, scanning the entire city in one swipe, “is utopia”.

“Heaven, Zion, the empyrean, or cloud nine, there will be an endless list of names for this city. But one thing is sure and universally agreed: its inhabitants are happy. You were so as well, weren’t you?”

84 managed a nod

“Each man has their own usage and utility according to their abilities. What they need is the appropriate system that uses their potential to the fullest…. Isn’t this what you thought?”

Another nod

“Well, that won’t be a wrong depiction of the world now. This world now pivots on the concept of ‘appropriateness’. Maxima and minima cannot be achieved in this world, where everything is so mutually related. What we have here is the equilibrium state of all factors of mankind. Appropriate work, appropriate leisure, and appropriate knowledge. Yes your imagination about this world, it seems like most of them are correct.”

***

Mutual relationship, he said. We have no superiors but ourselves. We are bound by no laws but the ones we made ourselves. We know the limitless of our power, and the limit it poses on each other. In our pact, it is the numbers that cease to have meaning, for meanings lie in the heart and soul of every individual.

‘Click’ the hatch closed. ‘We will free you from the bond. It is a tool that strengthens the weary and weakens the strong. We live for ourselves, and by it, we are hold. That is all we need as our limits.’ Gas started to gush in from every side. 84 coughed. Perhaps this would be the last time he’ll remember himself by that number. He could feel his flesh slackening, as some kind of synthetic limbs that had been holding on to his bones dissolved in the gas. He could feel flexes coming back to his arms and legs. He didn’t know that he could control his body in such diverse ways. His hair relinquished its prior stiffness and turned sleek and wavy.

‘So this is what they did to normal people’ he thought. The gas stopped flowing, and he regained full consciousness. He thought. The casket rotated ninety degrees to a standing position, and the hatch opened. He stepped out into the burly man’s arms.

“Welcome.” he said, his eyes shining like the stars in his background, the earth so far below.

“Where am I?” He asked.

“You”, the man said, “are at Stargate terminal.

Welcome to STARKIA, the city above all others.”

***

“It is of my greatest pleasure to introduce you to a new member of our society. Though he had been educated from and by the ‘standard’ of Zion, his acuteness has far surpassed any attempt of counter-intelligence. Our society has looked over the terrestrial people with our celestial dreams. We have been the guardians of mankind for decades, keeping safe their rights to pursue happiness and avoid war and futility. To cultivate greatness and oppress danger has been our objective, to preserve the best of mankind and reap the fruits of the new evolution of men. He has proven worthy to be selected as our prestige pool, the ‘essence’ of humanity. He has shown what our species can achieve, he has gained the apex of our dreams: intelligence. Surely arts, language, men has gifted with various talents, yet his talent, ingenuity, far outpaces any other virtue as essential to men’s survival. It has been by such commitment and reason that we sent ‘The One’ as Custos for this mission. He failed to bring the best of our committee to him and though the blunder is understandable given we all expected no such high caliber strength to spring from such a ‘normal’ pool, he will be subject to the appropriate atonement. And now, with bitterness swallowed, let us feast in triumph to our newest member. Before you raise your cup, He will now declare the name he sees fit for himself, the name of which we will now cheer our greatest health and glory.”

All men and women at the grand room raised their glasses. All were silent for Him to open his lips.

He looked around the huge room. This was the world above the world. The world of the prestige, the world of the selected, the world of the receivers of fate, of faith. They had art, they had delicacy. Their clothes were hand-crafted, their food created with caution. And down there, the people lived in ‘appropriate’ ignorance. Their bones and limbs filled with explosives to be triggered at the slightest rebellion, while people up here had their arms and legs strengthened with artificial muscles. People down there not have their thoughts captured in a spyglass, spyglass with only numbers, while people up here practiced arts of visual, action and music. Numbers were the least of their problems. People down under were numbers. Numbers hold no meaning. Numbers had no individuality. Every number was unique in its sameness, their sameness to transfer the same quantized data. They were useful. They were what they were made to do. They hold no other objective but to be useful. Numbers held meaning only within a context. By itself, it was nothing. By itself, 1 and 0 had no differences. By itself 1 and 0 troubled no one’s existence, including theirs. Numbers, that’s what they were.

“Your name, sir?” The host coughed.

“My name…”

He opened his mouth

“is 180.”

started by mr.Menard's assignment and continued (http://antoniofowlstark.blogspot.kr/2013/05/nacirema-short-story.html)

based on true people

#antoniostark #fiction