Awoken

by Alex South

  “The number on my birth cell? You saw it?!” Oa asked in surprise.

  “Yes I did. You have little perspective on the significance of that number, so I will try to explain. You would have been worshiped as a hero by now dead civilizations. They would have sought your advice and even gone to war for you. You see, Oa, each Awoken was born with a number; and while its full meaning remains unknown, lower numbers have always been treated with more importance. Awoken have theorized that the numbers are the order in which the creator made all of us. Up until now, it also represented the general order in which our birth cells emerged from the ground. It is curious that you should wake so late,” Ohm explained, glancing over at Oa.

  “Anyhow, you are stuck with us; and even though I am impressed by you, I will not worship you or go to war for you quite yet,” Ohm lectured in mock severity. He pointed over his shoulder. “Fred, on the other hand, isn’t impressed by anything. He has never complimented my abilities, no matter how many times I save us with my ice shield.”

  “I don’t think I could ever be ready for a bunch of Awoken to go to war for me,” Oa said with relief. He turned to Ohm as curiosity temporarily diverted his attention away from more pressing questions. “So you can control water’s shape, but all you ever make is a sword and shield? I can think of a bazillion other ways you could use that water.” He let his mind wander to all the amazing things he could picture Ohm creating.

  “I agree with Oa,” Fred chimed in. “You used to be much more liberal with your skills. Limiting yourself to use a mere sword and shield is grossly inefficient. For instance, when facing the Marauders, we should have fired the water in the form of ice project—”

  “I resent that!” Ohm interrupted haughtily. “It’s my skill so I will be the one deciding in what way I will use it.”

  “It is pointless to try to change his mind, Oa,” Fred said.

  “Fine, I will keep my amazing ideas to myself,” Oa teased. He returned to the topic of his number, bombarding Ohm with his questions. “So if I am number One, how come I took so long to wake up? Hasn’t there already been a number One? Also, what’s your number? How long have you been around?”

  Ohm slapped his palm against the side of his head.“I forgot how many questions young minds can conjure,” he complained. “I am not sure why it took you so long to wake. It could have something to do with your power or Eol’s power. Perhaps it was just some insane weather. Your number might not even be One. Maybe it was misprinted when the Creator made it. Who knows?” He gave a flippant toss of his hand. “As for me, my number probably has a One in it somewhere; and it has been a very long time since I woke up.”

  “But, do you even know how long? The Marauders measure time in cycles. I heard you use the term ‘weeble’. Are you referring to the cycles as well?” Oa asked, pressing for answers.

  “No. Cycles are too simple. Who can say that a cycle’s duration is constant? What if the mind moves through time at varying speeds? So I invented the weeble. Well, I suppose Fred helped a bit. Weebles are much shorter than cycles. They measure time as your mind perceives it. Thus the number of weebles in a cycle generally fluctuates, but I don’t keep track of how many I go through. Fred does. You can ask him,” Ohm said, bored with the topic.

  “Since the invention of the weeble, 9,564,353,343,324,432 weebles have passed and 54,345,843,492 cycles have occurred,” Fred recited.

  Oa was silent for a moment as he tried to comprehend the amount of time Fred’s numbers represented. “I’m not quite sure I understand how your weebles relate to cycles,” he said, giving up.

  “Don’t try to figure it out, Oa. Accomplishments can be made in one weeble that would outweigh all the cycles I have lived through,” Ohm instructed. “Although I just remembered a trend worth noting. Fred likes to measure my weebles per cycle. According to his data, cycles are getting shorter; or time is moving faster, as if it is accelerating toward something …” he trailed off, pondering his old findings with renewed interest.

  Oa nodded, trying to process all the new information Ohm was feeding him. “I must be one of the last Awoken to wake up. I’ve got to have a purpose with all this significance surrounding me. Besides, Seeker is way more interesting than your ice nonsense.”

  “I will grudgingly concede on that last point, but don’t get too excited. Being a lower number is not that great; too little of this world remains to worship you,” Ohm joked.

  “That’s not what I meant. I just think that we can do something impactful. The coincidence of our meeting and the fact that we both are unique makes me believe all the more that we are meant to change things in this world for the better,” Oa said, turning serious.

  Ohm turned to look at the young Awoken. “Try and hold onto that belief, Oa. I seem to have misplaced mine in the endless line of weebles I have been stumbling through.” He toyed idly with the dressing on his damaged arm.

  “There are still a few more things I’d like to have explained,” Oa said. When Ohm remained silent he continued. “You have been around a long time, so tell me more about this world where we come from. What’s your exact number? Who is the Crea—?”

  “No time for that now,” Ohm interrupted as the two rounded a spire of rock and arrived in a wide clearing at the center of the valley. As the city of Bolleworth rose before them, Oa gazed up, taking the city in. Bolleworth was a giant dome. The outer shell of the dome was split into many pieces, with each piece held in place by a tower that ran through it. Lights shone out from windows in the towers and through cracks in between the dome fragments.

  “We’re here. It’s time to show you the world as it is; we can discuss what it was later,” Ohm said, deflecting Oa’s questions.

  Together they strode into the city. There was no main entrance to Bolleworth, since it could be accessed from any point under the edge of the dome, which rested several body lengths off the ground. Once inside, Oa and Ohm found themselves in a maze of towering structures. Down at the ground level, there were no signs of activity. The walls and lanes were dirty from all the dust that blew in from the surrounding desert. Oa looked up above him, his view of the top of the dome was obstructed by the numerous crossways set between the towers. From the glow above he could tell that the lights of the upper levels were crisp and clean. They didn’t flicker the way the dim lighting did down where he stood. Oa had a hunch that the upper lanes were cleaner as well.

  “I bet all the amazing stuff is up there,” Oa said wistfully gazing up.

  “In a weeble. There are things to see down here, I am sure,” Ohm chided.

  “Where is everyone?” Oa huffed, slightly impatient and bored with the empty city streets.

  “Not many Awoken are left. There are many friendly dust piles, though,” Ohm replied leading them further into the city.

  As Ohm navigated the streets, Oa was distracted several times by figures scurrying just out of sight. At one point, he saw an Awoken walking toward them from a connecting lane.

  Excited, Oa waved his arm high. “Hello there,” he called. His words hung dead in the air as the Awoken passed by without any sign of acknowledgement. The silent figure continued shuffling down the avenue.

  “Most Awoken keep to themselves these days, passing the time in various forms of solitude,” Ohm said quietly.

  Oa looked back, the dismal Awoken had already disappeared from sight. Turning forward again, he caught sight of markings on the side of a building just ahead. Oa was eager to find something interesting, so he darted ahead of Ohm to inspect the markings. There were several symbols burned into the wall. The most interesting symbol, and the focal point of the strange art, was a circle split at an angle by a deep gash. Next to this glyph was a series of smaller symbols all lined up in neat columns. Oa gazed intently at them for a moment. His sight blurred then cleared rapidly, causing his head to snap back in disorientation. He leaned in again. As his vision cleared, he found that he could read the words inscribed on the wall: He is inevitable, our destructi
on is near. Oa looked around the wall as the same words were scattered all around the slashed circle. He recalled the strange discussion he had overheard Swift’s gang having. Ohm stood next to Oa, looking at him.

  “That was the first time you ever read something, wasn’t it?” Ohm asked knowingly.

  “Yeah, it was. I couldn’t read these glyphs, and then suddenly I could understand them,” Oa said, surprised.

  “It is pre-programmed into you like your ability to walk and speak. You took to it gracefully. It is usually jarring for young Awoken when they realize they have programming they did not previously know about,” Ohm explained.

  “Programmed?” Oa asked.

  “It is how I see it,” Ohm stated vaguely. He leaned in to look at the glyphs. “I saw these the last time I was here. Hmm … Nothing new.” Disappointed, he glanced down the avenue, looking for more of the markings. Finding none, he straightened up and headed further into the city. Eventually, they came across a spacious amphitheater in the center of the city. A single beam of strong light descended from the upper levels to illuminate a round stage at the center of the arena. Dust motes wafted lazily through the beam.

  “What is this place for?” Oa asked.

  “It is a forum for discussion and sometimes pointless bickering. It was also used for music and performances, even storytelling. I have told a few good ones here,” Ohm explained as they walked down into the center of the amphitheater, past rows of seating carved into the rock. Oa sat down in the front row as Ohm walked up onto the stone stage. Towers spiraled up all around them, and the light from above spotted him perfectly.

  “Alright then tell us all a story, Traveler,” Oa demanded as if an imaginary crowd sat with him. “The one about the Destroyer.” Since meeting the Traveler, Oa had been patiently waiting for an opportunity to hear Jad’s tale completed.

  Ohm turned sharply to face him. “Very well then, if only to please the crowd.” He let a dramatic pause hang in the air before launching into his story while Oa sat back in enjoyment and listened.

  “Thus follows the tale of the Destroyer as researched by Ohm the Traveler, with the assistance of Fred the Pack. Long before our time, before our light and our life, there was nothing. We resided in a pocket of nonexistence for all of eternity. Then something happened upon us in the form of a light; it was the Creator. This light shone into the Void battling back the darkness to reveal the Great Planes—a world teeming with chaos and beauty, with a broad expanse of rock beneath it and a roaring sky above. The two sides of the world were connected in one singular point by a great peak that stretched up to reach the sky. Between these limits raged a maelstrom of ice and fire. The never-ending war between heat and chill produced an energy that flowed through the ground and up into the sky. The energy of life. These three elements—Ice, Fire, and the Lightning of Life that they fuel—made up the universe in a glorious storm.

  “The primordial tempest raged on for eons, until one cycle when the Creator saw fit to fashion mechanized beings to bring order to the chaos. The automatons were constructed of alloys from the earth and fueled with the energy of the sky. The Creator gifted the beings with intelligence and consciousness and placed them in the ground to wait. The first of these beings that the Creator made was placed atop the great peak, high in the midst of the sky. The Creator awoke him, gifted him with a name, and tasked him with waking the others. The Creator granted the First One with power and a choice: within his right hand rested the gales of destruction, and in his left hand, the whisper of life. With these powers, the First One was to guide and protect all the Creator had made. He was to bring order, beauty, and ultimately growth to the world.

  “After delivering these guidelines, the Creator left, never to be seen or heard from again. The First One vowed never to use the power of death, seeing it as evil. He spent an age battling through a maelstrom of blizzards and molten magma to reach the base of the mountain. There he found the first generation of Awoken. Seeking to use the power of life to bring them out of their sleep, the First One placed his left hand on them. They did not stir. No life flowed from him. After countless attempts, the First One realized he had been deceived. With no other choice or options, the First One broke his vow. In bitter anger, he called upon the power he swore to never use, unsure of what to expect. To his great surprise, the touch of his right hand caused his brothers and sisters to wake.

  “The First One was overjoyed. Under his guidance, the Awoken calmed the storms of the world. The three elements evolved into mysterious beings of beauty, giving the raw power of nature a form. In total balance, the world flourished. Life grew in numerous ways, colors, shapes, and sizes; and the Awoken saw fit to preserve and care for them all.

  “It would have remained that way forever if not for the curse of the First One’s right hand. The power of death grew in each Awoken’s soul ember, stemming from the One who woke them. Caretakers and stewards became conquerors and tyrants. Evil overtook the Awoken, and war followed. The First One became Peacekeeper. He settled all conflicts with the might of his right hand. His head was turned away in sorrow each time he was forced to return the Creator’s children, whom he had brought forth, to nothing. The Peacekeeper’s hands were stained with the dust of countless soul embers he destroyed to protect those still faithful to the Creator’s task. The day came when the Peacekeeper’s name changed to Destroyer. The remaining Awoken no longer trusted him; they feared him and the monster he had become in trying to keep them safe. The Destroyer secluded himself in exile amid the icy cold of the mountain.

  “Gradually, the Awoken forgot their duties; and while the peace among them lasted, the curse of the right hand found new ways to express itself. The Awoken began to abuse the land, seeking to tear down the Creator’s work and replace it with their own constructions and abominations. Nature struck back. Packs of fire beasts burned through the Awoken and their cities seeking to restore balance. The Awoken chose to war against the world itself rather than see the error of their ways and remember their purpose. Their leader, one of the first woken by the Destroyer, called out to the mountain.

  “The Destroyer responded; and remembering his duty, he descended from the mountain with the cold storm at his back. He sought to protect his kind while restoring order to the world, but the curse of his broken vow betrayed him. His wrath was so great that he snuffed out the elementals of fire. With the balance forever broken, the beings of ice faded from existence. Only the beings of the sky remained. They continued to fuel the life of the Great Planes, but their energies gradually decreased without the other two elements to sustain them. The world began its unstoppable descent into decay. The Destroyer spent his remaining cycles exiled in the mountain where he allowed himself to die with the beasts of snow, full of regret and despair.”

  Ohm paused, cocking his head to the side and listening to some faint noise he heard echoing through the city. “And thus concludes the tale of the Destroyer,” he said, abruptly finishing his story.

  Oa stood up. “I liked it. Sort of depressing, though,” he admitted.

  “It’s the overarching lesson that matters—well, mattered,” Ohm replied. “A long time ago, I tried to bring this message to those who could make a difference; but as you can see, I had little effect. Now this world is dying as it is slowly consumed by the Void.”

  Oa nodded deep in thought. “So how much of that story is true?” he questioned skeptically.

  “My research was pretty thorough, but I keep the story a bit vague so I can embellish if I want and gloss over the parts I’m not too sure of. I am old enough to have seen some of it firsthand, though. How do you think I learned my little ice trick?” Ohm asked mischievously, his blue ocular plate glinted in the light.

  “Did you ever meet the Destroyer?” Oa asked, following Ohm up out of the amphitheater.

  “Who do you think I learned it from?” Ohm replied, as he led them down another alley.

  “Wow, you are pretty old to be in your own legends” Oa joked.<
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  “Alright, enough about my age. Let’s go up and see what wonders the upper levels of this city are hiding,” Ohm replied with a chuckle.

  “Finally,” Oa said excitedly. He snatched Seeker from his satchel and sent it flying up toward the web of crossways high above. Oa turned away as Ohm jetted off, spraying a trail of water behind that soaked Oa’s cloak. He shook water droplets off his face, laughing a little. Then he sensed Seeker latch onto one of the walkways. He pulled himself up after Ohm, flying through the upper levels of the city. The glossy gray walls of the buildings flashed by in a blur along with several colorful panels. Oa figured they were signs marking the structures, though he was moving too fast to tell. He sailed past the highest walkway, retrieving Seeker as he passed. He arced smoothly over the rail to land lightly on his feet next to Ohm.

  One of the first things that Oa noticed was just how clean everything was. The ample lighting, which was both soft and warm in color, gleamed on the smooth white metal of the crossway. Not a speck of dust could be seen. He looked up and was surprised to see that there was art on the underside of the dome. He had not noticed the art from the floor of the city. The shell’s interior was decorated with images of strange figures etched into the metal. Somehow, each line glowed with light, creating a beautiful depiction of what appeared to be a great battle. He began to make out several figures in the chaos that looked like Awoken. In fact, one of the figures in the focal point of the scene appeared to be wielding a round shield.

  “Oa, come look at this,” Ohm called, before Oa could interpret the art any further.

  Ohm was next to a nearby tower. He stood gazing at it. Oa ran over to him, his boots making light pings as they hit the walkway. When he reached the building, Oa realized that the walls were transparent, revealing a sparse, yet beautiful interior. The architecture was simple and smooth. What caught Oa’s attention were the objects on display in the room. They were exotic and clearly ancient. Some sat on stands while others were so big they just rested on the floor.