by Paul Bagnell
Chapter 3: ROPED INTO A MIND-CRASH
The full moon hung brightly in the celestial night sky like a giant ball of yellow wax as if moonlighting for the sun. Tom stretched in bed, visually charting the heavenly constellations through the charred ring in the building code and wondered about this assigned investigation. The Carravecky auditing task impressed him more so than Selly’s redundant list of trivial daily chores; and, in a good way, McBridle frightened him. He heard she was very moody and professionally demanding. This was probably the reason why Steve and Doug graciously declined the invitation to rub elbows with her.
After he mentally prioritized the day’s activities, his body and mind fell into a bottomless sleep. A day in the life of a biologically augmented human, his lash-tight, striated Nukyi muscles seemed like they were ready to burst with an involuntary, unnatural response.
The earthly galactic hero was transfixed by the powers of the mind-crash, an energy that desegregated Tom’s body from mind and hurled his soul across the boundaries of infinity through a vortex of energy to another dimensional place and time to a world beyond where he heard his name called repeatedly in a timbre voice. He roamed there alone--his eyes impaired by drift smoke, his vision blurred by exhaustion. He realized this was the exact same mystic world where he first encountered The Be-Ing.
From the dark shadows, a controlled surge of light escaped into the darkness some twenty arm lengths away. Surely, this halo of energy would reveal its bleak altar of obscured secrets. He forged onward. His shoeless feet pounded the ground and riddled eyes pried into the depths of the holy, as the sacred drew him into an awakened void. There was no retreat as he surrendered to The Be-Ing’s world, a pure world where clear blue sky seemed to extend forever and healthy green scenery fanned in a blissful breeze.
“My friend, you have arrived under your own wilful desire.”
Tom twisted around with great speed. “Couldn’t you just email me a friendly invite? ‘Cause that was one sick belly up in the mouth stomach ride you carried me here on.”
The Be-Ing offered no apologies. “You are the key selection, and it is imperative that you are unconditionally successful.”
“Selected and successful... for what?” he replied inquisitively.
“I am obligated to restoring you to your former identity; then you will understand all that I teach.” The Be-Ing humped closer. The lofty soil quivered beneath its massive oval-shaped feet.
Tom felt uneasy and curious as he watched it plow and hunch a few steps away from him.
“Nukyi, your destiny must be fulfilled. Only then can the truth of your existence mesh with your special matrix.” It was close enough to touch, and its deep tone had mellowed as it circled Tom, like a powerful lion circling a weaker prey until it once again crouched eye to eye with the rediscovered Nukyi.
Their eyes locked. Tom had a profound craving to learn everything about the unworldly creature.
The Be-Ing’s active motion froze like ice. It crunched back from its apprentice intending to exhibit a montage of its powers. “I can transfigure my aggregate into any creation known to your world and beyond,” it said, as it commenced to demonstrate its uncanny abilities.
First, it morphed from its rock-like-battle mass into a ferocious lion. Then, it grew into an upright reptilian-like, spike-tailed creature with a broad snout and razor-sharp teeth. Finally, it took the form of an ancient prophet that measured at least six foot and wore a neatly trimmed beard and long, dry ruffled hair. His swarthy skin matched the lustrous tan-coloured robe that was pulled tightly with a braided gold belt around the waist. Tom noticed the entity’s physical characteristics resembled that of the holy man carved in that anonymous stone piece displayed in Mackenzie’s office.
“This can’t be happening,” Tom mumbled in disbelief. He was unable to pry his eyes away because he wished to witness again.
“Wearing this mould, my epithet is Exsorbo,” The Be-Ing admitted once the transformation was complete.
Tom felt somewhat humbled by the infinite wisdom cast upon Exsorbo’s mature face.
Exsorbo projected a strong voice. “Do not be alarmed. You must focus your mind and open your sensory to my dominance and intricate experience,” he demanded. “You are mortal and you will die.” He held his palms outstretched. “It is for me to unlock the secrets of your life and to save you from this death.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It is your opportunity,” Exsorbo exclaimed.
“For what?” Tom sounded unconvinced.
“To reclaim your supreme mortality and denounce the evildoer who demands your Nukyi purity upon expiration. He will stop at nothing and will use every trick to manipulate time and distort the truth.”
“When you’re dead, the breathing game is over,” he confessed.
“You must seek the answers beyond your intellectual belief,” Exsorbo bellowed wisdomly.
“As a human, I don’t believe that’s possible so just forget about converting me--can’t be done,” Tom resisted the truth.
“Believe or die, the truth is there, grab it and survive.”
Tom straightened away, fearful of his future quest.
Exsorbo stepped closer. “Now, there is much to do and it is imperative we start immediately.” He continued to circle the human. “The exact purpose of your life is locked deep inside your mind. It holds the power of truth and wrath. We must harvest these powers, and only then can we fully manipulate your earthly world’s dimensional fabric,” Exsorbo admitted forcefully.
Tom interrupted, “Time travel is a 19th century novel fantasy. You can’t break the hourglass and step inside without spilling the world’s present reality.”
Exsorbo’s facial expression radiated with anger. “Inside your mind there is a map sealed behind restraining barricades that house all of what you are and all of what you have been. This map is the internal drive for life. It makes us what we are and who we will become. There you will find the valid answers to my teachings.” In a rejoicing voice, Exsorbo commanded, “Nukyi, come, see and experience.”
A stone pathway followed a maze of smart hedge work. They arrived at an aromatic garden with a courtyard and an angelic fountain, which spurted bursts of water that misted into vibrant colours overhead. It was a place of peace and beauty. Tom’s sight waded into the water pool. He identified his humanly image in the semi-distorted glossy surface, but observed that Exsorbo cast no physical reflection. “How do I attain what you have spoken about?”
Exsorbo captured a handful of wetness. “I am sworn to teach you; but, first, you must believe: All you seek is mortally obtainable.” He observed Tom absorbing the scenic grandeur. “Come.” He extended his hand and guided Tom down another stone path that led from the courtyard to a point beyond an ancient wall, arriving at a place where time melded with the powers of light and darkness.
“Whose spell dumped me here?,” Tom bellowed over the sounds of escaping energy whips, sparking lively flames, and paused at the mouth of the opening, alongside Exsorbo.
“The Messengers,” Exsorbo replied softly, and motioned to enter the rift.
Tom touched the master’s robed shoulder, and asked cautiously, “Who are they?”
“A council of higher entities,” he reported truthfully, and leaped forward. His voice echoed from out of the dimensional tunnel. “They are the ones who employed me to seek Tom Bronze, Thrond, an elusive Nukyi Salient and the only space soldier capable of battling the Supreme Commander of Hell.”
“That’s quite a tongue-biting mouthful,” Tom replied into the void; nevertheless, he was beginning to believe Exsorbo’s unhinged expedition as he lunged into the opening, ignoring the presence of danger.
Within seconds they stepped from the vortex and forged onward until they warmed in front of the enclosed flames.
“Look into the Fire of Hope,” Exsorbo instructed. “There you will see your lost achievements.”
Tom stared into the glowing hearth as instruc
ted.
“Concentrate,” Exsorbo coached. “You see a world similar to earth, a place where violence and destruction was, and is an accepted way of life. This civilization is far superior to that of man--a world greatly advanced in space technology and greater than all the surrounding planets combined. The Voge galaxy, it was the Nukyis’ battleground. The blood of many was spilled onto its soil, and death became a sport for the Merless Dynasty and its merciless king. You are the last of your breed.”
“Where are the others?”
“They are exiled... unlike you.”
“And where would this place called “in exile” be?”
“That is beyond your earthly comprehension.”
“And that is?”
“A place of hell locked in time. Your fateful battlers are waiting for you to reactivate and prevail over their captor.”
Tom ran his fingers through his untidy hair, as if deathly worried.
Exsorbo disturbed the hot cinders with the crash of his hand. “It was the Ancient Ones who first experimented with genetic science and biological manipulation of creation. They fabricated the many life forms that presently inhabit the universe.”
“Where’s that written in the big, thick, holy-shit cookbook?” Tom said sarcastically.
Exsorbo intensified his tone of voice. “The sacrosanct of scriptures recorded that the Ancient Ones discarded their undesirables into uncharted space where such species prospered on habitable planets of the many clusters of galaxies. There were two such species superior to the others--the Nukyi Salients and the Merless Knight Warriors.”
“The knights... Were they good or bad?”
“There is no good or bad. There just is.”
“Tell me the truth, no mind games,” he insisted.
Exsorbo nodded, “Truly dedicated, then desperately wasted.”
“How is that possible?”
“Both were a genetic breed of fighter designed to maintain and preserve galactic harmony. Conceived by the same life giving substance that ignited the cosmos; it is the most unpredictable element next to existence itself. For this reason, your destiny is so imperative to all life, and there can be no time to waste.”
“And you want me to believe all hell is ‘gonna’ break loose if I run from your creepy challenge?”
“Believe or not. The truth cannot be altered, and you cannot hide,” Exsorbo roared.
“I’m not trying to hide.”
“You cannot fight your true existence by pretending ignorance.”
Tom accepted Exsorbo’s infinite wisdom. “Then, what’s next?”
“The flames have grown weak. We must not extinguish them or he will come.” He placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder.
“Who will come?”
Exsorbo avoided an explanation. “It’s time; you must return.”
“No, tell me, who will come?,” Tom demanded; but without another word, Exsorbo dissipated into energy particles, and was gone.
Beyond world forces ate at Tom’s flesh, and the air grew heavy and bitterly cold. His short breath froze with each long gasp. “Exsorbo, come back,” he demanded. “I must know who will come.”
The force escalated and flushed him back into the realities of his own misery. The elements of Exsorbo’s world faded, leaving behind a feeling of emptiness. “Exsorbo, come back!” He shouted again, but his words were lost in the timeless void; and he was forced to return to his own dimension.
*****
“Another nightmare,” he moaned, and massaged the tension from his exhausted muscles. He pondered over Exsorbo’s persistent vision. He’d been thinking about warriors and salients all morning with a ferocious appetite to attain more details about his future conquest.
