The year is 5092 A.D. for those who still believe in the good man; or can remember a time when there were good men; or that there ever even could have been such a thing as a good man.
The colonization of distant planets has been mastered with the aid of the long-departed gift of science; but a terrible war has plunged most into a state of utter turmoil. The people live in ruin- choked by their own greed. The universe has been hurled into a medieval state of darkness. Lawlessness and deceit have obscured our sense of ethics and morals. Those who seek virtue are repaid with scorn. Life as we know it... No, we couldn’t begin to dream...
For nearly a century they have held back the onslaught; they have been those who have kept the light alive in the darkness; protectors of peace holding in their hand a bloodied sword.
And here their fathers, and their father’s fathers lay dead; here, they too would fall; and it would be here, here that their children would one day lie- their pale faces contorted with the sick grimace of one who knows their place is anywhere but where they stand. They persevered because they had too; because somewhere in the back of their collectives they knew that if they failed, there was no hope.
Most didn’t even remember why. They were merely born into it- as if their lives served no purpose but to continue the warfare that had always been. And that was the way this war was fought- neither for glory, nor for any material gain- but because of the persistent knowledge that someday it- as anything- must end. And then and only then, one would be triumphant, and thus the fate of the universe would be determined.
The stage was set, for what was sure to be the greatest story ever recorded. And our ostentatious little thespians did, most certainly, not disappoint.
It was the 97th anniversary of some long forgotten, accursed day, when the two began their bitter feud. On this day there were no festivities, and only the menacing thunder in the pale violet sky clapped with passion. As the downpour started, the sky lit up with a glorious crash, and you could see plainly through the night, the agony on each and every face, straining each and every muscle. “CRASH,” and again, the sky lit up like some unnerving landscape portrait- painstakingly detailed, down to the last drop of blood flowing from a felled infantrymen.
He stared from the tower in grief. Watching as his army was slowly driven back. Ah- it would pass. They had been moving back and forth for years, no one gaining ground on the other. He took a sip from a flask he kept under his seat. Yes- they would battle back. As he turned away, his door was thrust open by some nameless general. “Sir,” said the general, with the tone of someone who has stared death in the face, and boldly turned his face in shame, “Sir,” he repeated. “We have a problem.” He half expected to be stricken down at these words, “Their forces... They... They have broken through at the northern wall.” He flinched, but the blow never came. The general heard his emperor sigh.
“I grow weary of this,” he said as if pondering to himself. “I grow weary of this war; I grow weary of the pain; the suffering... I grow weary of this life we lead- back and forth again and again, and what do we show for it but the miles of wasteland we gain,” he took a step forward. “Do you know why we fight this war? Don’t bother- of course you don’t. You don’t understand as I do- I who sit up here, and watch! Do you understand what it’s like to watch your children die- for nothing- and not be able to do anything! I just sit here, that is what I do! I sit here and watch as my people- my children- die before me!” He staggered for a moment and fell into his seat, head in hands, sobbing.
The general felt it his time to retreat to the battlefield. He pondered this for a moment and found an amusing irony to it- but he dared not laugh aloud. Still, his spirits were lifted slightly as he left the tower, but were soon dispersed of as his thoughts once more turned to the wailing of the cannonade and the whizzing of bullets overhead.
The general was born into the war at its previous height in the 80th year. He- just as the rest- was nameless- a mere product bred to pick up the fight where its previous generation left it. As a general, however, he was granted time away from the asylum of war, and able to think freely of something other than the impending task of holding their opposition back. And at this moment his mind was pre-occupied by something in particular. The emperor’s words had had a deep impact on him. “Why are we fighting?” he asked himself. “Do we really hate each other? Are we really that dissimilar as to constitute spending our entire lives trying to kill each other? No, it couldn’t be. I refuse to believe it. I refuse to believe that any difference can be solved this way,” he paused, realizing the full depth of his words, letting them slowly sink in. “But then, if I, a mere general could reason so- why have the rest- my betters and, even, my subordinates- why have they not come to that conclusion? Why is it, that they still are blind to this truth that becomes so evident to me?”
He queried over this enigma, and as he got up, remorse hung over his head- weighing him down as he once again took up the charge, leading his troops headlong into the darkest depths of hell.
The following day brought to recollections all of the suffering of years past. The scent of rot and gunpowder was deafening. They had succeeded in defending the wall, but had sacrificed a good many lives to do so. Not a shot was fired that day, but it felt to them as though this reprieve was just as trying- if not more so than the battle itself. The soldiers returned to their squalid, mud-stained quarters, and tried to remember better times...
He lit the small oil lamp in the corner, and began to read from a tattered book he’d pocketed in the field. The title burned deep into its front. He gazed at the pages and found solace in the bright pictures. They gave light to the black and white familiarity that consumed his life. Their faces gave him hope for a cease, and for his pains to end.
He watched as the children laughed and played; as they rolled around the grassy knoll- carefree as a bird in the sky. He imagined what it would feel like to be free; to be able to wake up in the morning, and let the fresh scent of the dewy meadow entice his every breath.
He felt himself slip into a dreamlike state... He was walking through a field... He sensed that he’d been there before, although he couldn’t recall when or how. He continued to walk along. He looked down at his feet; he could see the ground rippling as he stepped, like off a lake- as a child sits innocently skipping stones from the bank. He came to a halt and looked up; his eyes met a dazzling light. He was afraid, and couldn’t stand firm; he felt himself being unconsciously drawn to it. He reached out...
He heard a shout and withdrew; he felt the clammy hand of reality reach to him and grasp him in its numb, unfeeling grip. He saw the glorious light recede and fade into the darkness that bound him.
“Are you deaf?” came a voice behind him. He stirred slightly, but still did not move. “I said are you deaf?” evidently irritated at his stupidity. “Hello?” he added, now cursing under his breath.
He broke out of his daze.
“Oh, yes. What do you want?”
“Glad you’ve decided to join us,” he said mockingly. “They seem to be growing restless; we’re expecting fire soon. We need you at the front lines.”
“Yes, all right,” he said, slowly coming back to grips with what was going on around him.
The voice- which he discovered came from his commander-in-chief- led him out of his quarters, and into the faltering light of dusk. He squinted his eyes- scanning the horizon. The stars were out that night- a rare sight. The setting sun left the plains a brilliant shade of golden orange. As he walked he looked up towards heavens, and he found himself consumed with a feeling of... He couldn’t really explain it. It was as though it was the first time he’d ever really realized that there was something else out there than what he was bound to; some alternative. It was as though this were the first time he realized how insignificant he was in the whole scheme of the universe... How insignificant they all were.
The commander’s voice once again broke his thoughts. And he slowly descended back into a frame of mind more befitting someone at war.
“- It’s bloody despicable the way this thing is run ya know? I mean, we’re practically handing them the embankment on a damn silver platter already, and now they want us to shift our regiments?”
He nodded in feigned agreement, eager for silence.
“It’s just insane. We’re spread butter thin as it is. There’s no chance in hell we’re going to hold them if we lose even one more regiment... It’s just insane!”
The commander had turned a vivid scarlet by now. He took a sip from a bottle of gin- amazing how only the great evils of our worlds seem to live on- and regained his composure.
“Here, follow me.”
The commander led him inside where his fellow soldiers sat grumpily. Some sat at tables- playing poker for rations; others staring at the ceiling longingly, with far-off expressions on their faces.
As the two entered time seemed to stand still. Everyone stopped and looked up, half-hoping for it to be some divine messenger, coming to tell them that it was finally over; that everything would be all right. Their expressions reflected their misery and despondency. He sat down and joined a game while the commander went discussing something with a number of the other high-ranking officers.
A pair- he lost again. No matter though; as of late he wasn’t usually hungry anyway. He was persistent in playing, although his thoughts drifted in and out of the game. By a half-hour in, he hadn’t a thing left for himself. He got up indiscreetly, and left the table with vacant eyes. He began pacing back and forth across the room; giddily humming a tune from long ago looking quite insane amidst this perpetually grey scene. He was letting his mind go wandering; back to the field. Back where life was serene.
A shot flew from the other side. They emerged from their bunker in preparation for battle. Arms loaded, they rushed to the front line and moved swiftly into position. They stood motionless; guns poised- facing forward; watching... waiting, for some- some unavoidable, an at once recognized signal. There came an impulsive shot from some poor, shaking soldier...
And so it began.
The cannons wailed in time with the cracks of the shots; and as they clashed together, a thunderous roar could be heard from all sides; all other sounds blocked out. Line after line; life after life they rode; battle cries; but little ways above their heads, the already fallen hung. Silent, but ever-felt audience, to the great tragedy below.
The senses fleeting from every man; each swinging madly without plan, with only the intent of inflicting pain of whomsoever crossed their path; be he foe or friend alike.
All motives forgotten, all the lessons, notwithstanding the life-long time spent, discovering what could only be seen from within; shattered in moments. Thoughts ran rampant in the chilled nighttime breeze, tormenting the soul; pronouncing their airy magnificence with a melodious tongue; beating it down with a gentle rhythm, calmly radiating amidst the torrent of rage filling every heart, evaporating into the mists of a stony gloom, flames of hate; fanned by passion.
Livid; out of character, he found himself trying to find a grasp back into reality. He felt himself emerging from the world, his being; he was floating, he could see himself... but he couldn’t stop. He stared transfixed. He knew what he was doing, but he didn’t understand it. He was in awe at this... this above-ness. He suddenly seemed to understand something, but it sat there, dancing on the tip of his tongue. He reached for it, but it slipped from his hand.
He fell.
He awoke, his first thought, I’m dead, aren’t I? He stood up. So this is what it feels like... odd, I feel the same. But, then perhaps I’m not... though I can’t imagine how I couldn’t be. I suppose this is what comes of war then. Terrible thing it is. Why in the world we persist in it is beyond me.
He looked up. He shielded his eyes from the sun and saw... nothing. No soldiers... no walls... nothing. He got up onto his feet and wandered around the open field, searching for some sign... something that might serve to explain.
As he moved cautiously along, he caught a glimpse of the sunlight, dancing across something out of the corner of his view. He bent down to pick it up. It was a necklace, neither fanciful nor set with any stone. A pendant of dulled gold, inscribed with some ancient script hung from it forebodingly. He carefully wiped the sand from its face and polished it against his tabard.
As he turned it slowly between his fingers he seemed lost in some invisible beauty flickering somewhere within its depths. He felt a craving to place it around his neck, but some other force held him back. He reluctantly slipped it into his pocket and drudged onward.
He found himself hiking alongside a hastily flowing river. On his left- across the river- lay forest, into a world he’d never yet seen; to his right, the past that lay now behind him. The two were so distant, yet still at that moment, so very close, that it was to him as though he stood in limbo; as though his whole life was to be summed up in the decision that now lay before him.
He took a glance to the right and suddenly felt a pang of guilt somewhere in his unconscious. He turned and strode across the bridge.
Around him he heard the soft cooing of the nighttime owl which mixed with the deafening silence of the confusion surrounding him. He followed an invisible path, laid by his unconscious and beckoning him to follow. Carefully brushing aside leaves and branches, he made his way through this rich jungle-
He’d been here before...
When? Where? He struggled to comprehend, but he felt it... and slowly his mind began to grasp the idea... he could feel it... through every vein it coursed, this, this energy all around him... He’d been here before.
He progressed unthinkingly, some unseen force directing him to some unknown destination. He emerged in a clearing and felt himself gaze upward as the millions of stars unveiled themselves to him in a dazzling display of heavenly brilliance. He was entrance and as he took in the magnitude of what lay above him- so small we are, so insignificant, each light up there, a million lives, so many and yet to each only one... and what do we do with it, waste it on pain and fear; on fleeting possessions and false pride. Nothing truly exists. We only perceive it so to give our lives meaning. But what meaning is this; what life is it we lead, devoid of emotion, where our salvation, the light of love is to be forever eclipsed by the infinite moon of hate?
Immersed in thought, he stumbled forward, eyes locked on the swirling, churning sky; so full of mystery... star light star bright, he though- a child’s rhyme he’d picked up in one of his tattered books, although a long ways away from that place now- wish I may, wish I migh--- he was all of a sudden being jerked upward at the leg, and the world seemed to spin and heave itself upside down on him- he was standing on the sky, watching the reflections on those same stars twinkle in the muddied pools of water, glistening richly above him.
Good to see you working, my young friend! Very good work, as always!
I have to admit I've only read this part so far, my time is not my own this week with Pam visiting - limited time at the computer. I'll read the second part as soon as I get the chance.
