The midwife returned the baby to his mother and as soon as his mother placed a nipple to his lips, the baby stopped squealing and went to work on his mother’s breast, filling its tummy with life-giving milk. Mother giggled, father looked on, and the birthing staff was happy for the new parents. The doctor congratulated the couple again and left the room. A successful birth was always a great feeling. The new housemaid then walked in. She made to take the basin of bath water away from the table but the much younger midwife offered to do it herself. The new maid smiled and offered her thanks.
“I may be over half a century old, my dear,” she said. “But I believe I can handle this little chore.”
The much younger midwife conceded with a polite giggle.
“As you wish, you young stallion,” the younger midwife said.
And what brings you to this realm, my dear Shemsu? The Scribe, who was the new maid, thought as he eyed the baby nestling on its mother’s bosom.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
KNOW THYSELF
TWO MONTHS OLD…
The baby was named Deni, after his maternal grandfather. He was a healthy child with an insatiable appetite. But Deni’s mother was up to the task, despite her wilting health. The slow degeneration of her internal organs began when she became pregnant. Her condition was the first of its kind and thus, it became an object of research. At first, the doctors assumed her condition resulted from the fact that Deni’s mother was beyond the average childbearing age of 670 by over a century. This assumption was debunked quickly when the evidence suggested otherwise. All the medical and technological expertise of the realm, from organ transplant, nanotechnology, tissue regeneration, and even controlled cryostasis had failed to heal or slow the progress of this rare condition.
It was later discovered that the embryo emitted spectral readings that were off the charts and hence, it was theorized that the embryo must be the cause of its mother’s deteriorating health. Cassini, Deni’s mother, was given the option to have her baby incubated outside of her womb. But Cassini had not waited for over four centuries to have her first child and when that special moment finally came… Absolutely not! It did not feel right to her. Her baby would grow within her and she would nourish her child the natural way, even if it meant losing her life in the process. Her chances of living before the baby was born were next to nothing. But here she was, breastfeeding her child two months after his birth.
One day, Cassini asked the maid to bring Deni over from his cot as usual. It was time to feed him. The maid obliged. By now, Cassini was too weak to do anything. She looked as pale as death, her skin was more wrinkled than that of a 2,000-year old matron, sight and hearing were failing and she could only breathe through a tube and a tank. Cassini looked so sickly that everyone prayed for her death, just so she could get some rest from her suffering. No one knew why Cassini put herself to such torment.
As the maid headed for Deni’s cot, Cassini noticed a glowing sphere floating towards Deni’s cot. It hovered over Deni for a few seconds before it settled on his forehead and disappeared. Cassini wanted to say something but she was too weak for that. However, judging from the fact that the maid continued to act normally, Cassini concluded that the maid must not have seen the sphere. The maid gently placed Deni in Cassini’s arms and helped with undoing Cassini’s blouse, since Cassini was too weak to do that herself. Baby Deni began feeding.
As Deni fed, he raised his tiny right hand and placed it on his mother’s bony cheek. A glow immediately surrounded mother and child and that glow stayed on until Deni had his fill. The maid gasped in shock and just stared on. When the glow faded, Cassini had been restored to full health and youth. Cassini slid off her sick bed up and ran to a mirror. Deni was cradled in her arms. She was stunned speechless at her miraculous transformation.
“By the gods!” Cassini exclaimed.
“The gods be praised indeed,” The Scribe, the maid, said and smiled.
Twenty-years old…
Deni, now a young child was playing with other children on a regular day in the neighborhood. One of the children brought a toy his mother had just bought for him and showed it to the rest of his playmates.
“What is that?” Deni asked.
“It’s a four-dimensional, holographic projector!” the boy bragged. “Mother says it’s one of the only 200,000 units made!”
Deni ignored the boy’s bragging.
“It must be really nice,” Deni said. “How does it work?”
“I thought you would never ask,” the boy beamed.
The boy tapped on the screen of his new toy a few times and a blue beam of light shot outwards from a tiny dot on the top right-hand corner on the back of the device. The blue beam formed a four-dimensional holographic image of a pet; a small, cute creature on four legs, no more than twelve inches tall and covered in beautiful fur. The other children marveled at the hologram. As the boy with the toy went on to explain how he thought the toy functioned, Deni walked towards the hologram, stared at it for a few seconds and then casually picked up the hologram. The children were dumbfounded as gradually, with every stroke from Deni’s hand, the hologram became a real-life pet.
“I name you ‘Shrodi’, my new friend,” Deni said to his new pet, ignoring his playmates’ reactions. “And you’re coming home with me.”
Shrodi purred and nestled against Deni. Deni smiled and took the creature home with him.
Two hundred and seventeen years old…
“This is the latest version of the protoplasmic resonance imaging scanner, PRIS,” Professor Biru said as he tapped on the three-dimensional board in the classroom with a walking cane he never had any use for but carried it on his person regardless.
A hologram of a PRIS hovered on the board. Professor Biru then tapped on a few buttons on a palm-sized device he held in his free hand and the image of the PRIS became a four-dimensional hologram. Professor Biru then went on to explain the newest features of the latest model of the PRIS and how it worked. He was also proud to announce that the new model was built by his twin, meaning, by induction, that he also built it. His dry humor did not even cause as much as a smile on any of his students’ faces. Nothing could be more boring and torturous than sitting through one of Professor Biru’s classes.
“And if everyone paid attention during my class,” he said after a while and threw a holographic ball towards a student who was nodding off to sleep.
Upon impact, the holographic ball exploded in bright sparks and gave off an annoying sound. The student jerked to wakefulness and almost fell of his chair, causing a roar of laughter to echo through the classroom.
“Then maybe you won’t be flunking my class like you are!” he added. “Now, do any of geniuses have anything to say on how the functions of the PRIS in relation to protoplasmic spectrometry?”
Silence. His class was almost over, anyway.
“Just like I thought,” Professor Biru said as he compressed his cane and stowed it away in his satchel. “l shall save you from your intellectual misery-”
“Professor Biru!” a student called from the left corner of the classroom.
Professor Biru sighed with exaggerated exasperation.
“Yes, young man,” the professor replied. “Do you have a question?”
“Well,” the young student stuttered. “You asked a question and I was going to answer, sir.”
Professor Biru sized up the student for a few seconds. He could not decide if this student was being sarcastic or genuine. He decided to indulge the student.
“Of course, young man,” Professor Biru replied. “Please proceed.”
“Thank you,” the student said and leaned forward. “I understand how the PRIS works and how it is related to protoplasmic spectrometry, but even with this most advanced model, I must say it’s heavily flawed.”
There were gasps and murmurs across the classroom. Professor Biru was too intellectually shocked to say or do anything for a few seconds. Who was this brat? This ballsy brat? B
iru raised his hand in the air and called for silence. He turned his attention towards the student and, keeping his ego in check as much as possible, he spoke softly.
“What is your name, young man,” the professor asked.
“My name is Deni, sir,” Deni replied.
“Well then, Deni, could you please explain to the class just how ‘heavily flawed’ this PRIS is?” Professor Biru asked half-expecting to make a fool out of Deni and half-expecting the unexpected from such a gutsy student.
“If it is alright with you, sir,” Deni replied, “I could come forward and show you and the class what I mean.”
There were more gasps and murmurs across the classroom. The professor called for silence once again and invited Deni to the front of the class. He walked to the front of the class and retrieved a palm-sized device from his left jacket pocket, tapped on it a few times and a four-dimensional, hologram of a device appeared on the board next to the hologram of the latest version of the PRIS.
“So, the PRIS only scans for the physical traits of the subject at the sub-cellular level and translates its wave signatures into data that can be processed and analyzed,” Deni began explaining. “The processing and analysis of these data is basically what protoplasmic spectrometry is all about-”
“Points to you already for trying, young man,” Professor Biru interjected. “But please, by all means, continue with your explanation.”
“Thank you, sir,” Deni said and returned to explaining himself. “Now, the PRIS ends only at the physical level. But with this device,” Deni pointed at the holographic display, “one can go way past the physical. Take a look at this.”
Deni tapped on his hand-held device a few times and the hologram was replaced by a three-dimensional video of himself standing in front of the device. There were readings displayed on a monitor and even though everyone knew what some of the readings represented, the rest of the readings were new to them.
“You all are already familiar with these readings,” Deni said as he indicated the readings that everyone was already aware of. “These are the readings that the PRIS would show from any given subject. But these other readings,” Deni pointed towards the other readings, “transcend the subcellular wave patterns that we are used to working with. In other words, these are readings for some of what lies beyond the physicality of our corporeal forms.”
The entire class was too shocked and surprised to even utter a single sound, and Professor Biru was too stupefied to even say anything. Deni continued explaining as if he were talking to a bunch of colleagues at a board game.
“These new readings,” he continued, “represent my vibrational, emotional, psychiatric, auric and telepathic frequencies. We have labeled the collective readings we are accustomed to as the ‘protoplasmic signature’. And I will label these new set of readings as the ‘esoteric signature’. Eventually, I will include the psychical readings into the esoteric signature, but for now, this is what I have and I think my device is more efficient, effective and will be far more beneficial to us than this latest version of the PRIS.”
“Are you saying you BUILT this device, young man?” Professor Biru asked as if he had just snapped out of a trance.
“Yes, sir,” Deni replied flatly.
“Class dismissed!” Prof. Biru said, though they still had three minutes to go before class was over. “You are coming with me right away!” he said to Deni
“Where to, sir?” Deni asked.
“To the Overlords,” the professor replied.
Three hundred and thirty-two years old…
“Captain Deni! Step forward!” an overlord commanded.
Deni took a large step forward, clapped his heels and stood at attention.
“Why do you think you are the best candidate for this mission?” asked the overlord.
“Overlord, Sir,” Deni replied firmly, “I revolutionized the PRIS and created the teleport carrier technology that have enabled us to journey beyond the fifth realm with the rings around it and we can now get closer to our Central Realm in much shorter leaps of time. I feel it is my right and most of all, my privilege, as the pioneer of these technologies and other technologies, to lead the first team that will further explore our dimension for the many possibilities that may lie within and even beyond, Overlord Sir!”
“And the purpose of this expedition, Captain?” the same overlord asked.
“Overlord Sir,” Deni replied, “according to my calculations and according to the data that I presented, our realm, Necheru, is dying! The purpose of our expeditions will be to seek resources that could help reverse our situation and even a possible second home for our kind, if it came to that. Our mission is solely to seek ways to ensure our survival, Overlord Sir!”
Deni waited as the overlords seemed to deliberate for a few minutes. Everyone in the Realm of Necheru was watching, either at the grand council hall or on live telecast. Over the past centuries, Deni had risen to become the biggest celebrity in the Realm of Necheru with his inventions and innovations. He was a true patriot in every regard. It was evident that he was going to be granted the permission to lead this expedition to go beyond the fifth realm with the rings. But there were certain formalities to go through, like a hearing with the Overlords. Deni played along. Finally, the Overlords turned to face him. Deni maintained his stiff posture in the center of the insanely large grand council hall.
The leader of the overlords leaned forward and began speaking.
“Captain Deni,” the overlord said. “We accept your proposal to undertake this mission and with this acceptance, you have been promoted to commander! Congratulations, Commander!”
“Thank you, Overlord Sir!” Deni said and the Realm of Necheru rejoiced with him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CALL TO DUTY
URIEL WATCHED THE newborn squeal away. Everyone moved around her as if in choreographed expertise. The baby was fallen Lunok. It was Uriel’s first time on a lower realm. It was her first time to witness a pregnancy and a birth. She wondered if this… process… was the same with the Zarark. Everything was both fascinating and intriguing. Instinctively, Uriel wanted to assist with baby Lunok, but she remembered no one could see her; not even Lunok. Or maybe Lunok could perceive her. Anyway, Uriel could not translate Lunok’s baby squeal yet.
Uriel had familiarized herself with the generic Necheru esoteric signature. Baby Lunok, now called Deni, had the generic Necheru esoteric signature, but Uriel could perceive remnants of his Shemsu esoteric signature, which was mostly in the dormant form. Despite its dormancy, Deni’s mother’s essence was being slowly mutated by the Shemsu esoteric signature of her son and her body, unfortunately, could not mutate along with her mutating essence. As such, his mother had been growing sicker by the moment and the creatures of this realm did not have the expertise to handle the situation. Many-a-time, Uriel wanted to step in and infuse Deni’s mother with her angelic essence, hoping the infusion would result in a remedy. However, Uriel could not interfere.
And who was that maid with the non-Necheru esoteric signature? The maid was older than her peers. To everyone else, this maid was just that; a maid. But, to a trained eye, the maid’s demeanor bespoke of malevolent intent. Uriel had no doubt this ‘maid’ was anything but a maid and after all her research revealed nothing about creatures with this type of esoteric signature, it dawned on Uriel that she, and consequently Lunok, could be powerless against this creature. So much about the creature was illogical. How could it not detect her presence? Or was it just pretending, like it was pretending to care for the fallen Shemsu? How did it even come to know about the fallen Shemsu in the first place? So many questions, so many possible answers, so much research to be done, and so many odds against her and Lunok already!
It had taken some planning and skill but she succeeded in circumnavigating Michael’s observation. She could sneak out of Celestia and return at will and no one would detect her absence. Her ‘alibi’ was always solid. Uriel left trails of her presenc
e around the realm enough to leave subconscious imprints in the minds of her peers. She would be ‘seen around’, with the right amount of certainty and uncertainty to ascertain a validation of her whereabouts. So far, it was working. If ever Michael summoned her or went looking for her, Uriel made sure she was there for him. Any other angel or archangel could wait.
It was on this Realm of Necheru that Uriel learned more about concepts like judgement, emotions, sickness, diseases, both curable and incurable, conception, pregnancy, childbirth, childrearing, aging and death. These creatures spawned such tiny younglings and these younglings had to be nurtured to full growth and maturity. Everything on this realm had to be manufactured. So inefficient! It was unfortunate that the creatures of this realm could not summon and dismiss everything like Uriel and her peers did in Celestia. One thing Uriel still had the hardest time understanding was the notion of time. Well, she would have plenty of… time… to understand how ‘time’ worked here.
One day, shortly after Baby Deni, had suddenly cured his mother, for which Uriel was happy, the ‘imposter’, a term Uriel used to designate the maid with the non-generic Necheru esoteric signature, had walked up to the door of Deni’s mother’s bedroom and knocked on it.
“Come in,” Cassini said.
The imposter walked in. Uriel glared at the imposter and the imposter stared in Uriel’s direction. Uriel gasped, thinking the imposter could see her.
“Is anything the matter, Niki?” Cassini asked.
“No, mistress,” the imposter replied. “I thought I saw a crack in the wall.”
The imposter turned her attention towards Cassini.
“But it was nothing,” the imposter continued. “My apologies.”
“No need for that, Niki,” Cassini said. “So, is everything alright?”
“I’m afraid not, mistress,” the imposter, also known as Niki, replied. “I’m afraid I must leave you and Deni and return to my hometown in the south.”
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