Dumachus is feeling a little left out of the conversation so he decides to bring it back to his point of contention. “Why would you want a traitor? Don’t you know? He’s a follower of Christ now.”
This detail is not lost on Sacro, but there is always a chance the stories are false.
“God works in mysterious ways, my son.” Sacro takes the first step towards the exit and after a few paces Titus and Dumachus follow.
Don’t trust him. He’s desperate. Dumachus does not look convinced either but decides to forgo his wrath for the time being.
Like a tour guide, Sacro leads the two down a narrow collider towards the elevator, pointing out objects of significance and providence, none of which entered the duo’s scope of interest. The doors open to a tiny room, Sacro walking inside and turning around waiting for the two to follow.
“Don’t worry, it’s not dangerous. We’re deep underground, and this will lift us closer to the surface.”
They gingerly step inside the tiny room and do their best to be composed as the doors shut and floor jolts. Sacro continues to talk; a way to conceal his fear and shield his thoughts, but Titus isn’t listening to him. Music emanating from invisible speakers in the ceiling has his attention.
I know this… Ancient prayer songs recorded and preserved. A tiny piece of home. Nothing else triggers any sense of familiarity. The elder’s strange accent, the architecture foreign, cleanliness with clinical sanitation never before seen or smelt.
Nothing could have been better than when, the doors finally open, Titus and Dumachus spill into the small foyer. Sacro continues his spiel as they head down yet another long corridor.
“We have come a long way from human or animal powered tools. The Moirai translated the core of the ancient texts giving us access to an unlimited energy supply, incredible engineering, technology, and the ability to create and alter lifeforms with divine powers, such as yourselves.”
I’ve got to get out of here.
“What can we do?” Dumachus is blunt but Titus finds himself lingering for Sacro’s response. Sacro is very careful with his answer.
“You have the power to read another’s thoughts, even project your own. You also have the power to move objects with your mind, to the extent of which we don’t know.”
But…
Sacro’s poker face cracks, and he forces himself to show his full hand. “There may be more. We ran numerous computer simulations with no definitive results; slow time, bend light, walk through walls. We just don’t know. You two are genetically the finest and most alien lifeforms on the planet.
Titus looks to Dumachus. Dumachus keeps his eyes forward with intent.
“There’s over two hundred and fifty [*]Parsas of roads and tunnels that can take you to any district you like…”
He’s stalling. Buying time. Titus has a flashback to when centurions kicked open the door; the sound of splintering wood, the slight gust of wind from the doors fanning open wildly, and ambush, the surprise. He can sense it again, this time it’s a change in air pressure, slight rise in air temperature. All these new senses firing off inside his brain, like instinct or preprogramed innate knowledge.
Dumachus still refuses to meet his eyes. He is tenser though, he must sense it too.
Where’s the kid?
“…which leads us to one of our many treasured halls.” A coliseum of herculean proportions. A toweringly high domed ceiling and light like a star emanating from the peak. Stadium seating to hold hundreds of thousands of people wrap around the perimeter. At the far end a large podium on an elevated level overlooks the entire volume of the space.
This is but ONE of your halls?
This is the largest feat of construction Titus has ever been inside of. Engineering to rival the pyramids in his opinion, but like no room he has ever been. The floor, walls, every surface was ice, but neither cold nor wet.
“This is actually just an extension of the first drill. That skylight up there was where they bored through with pick and axe centuries ago.” Sacro just gave Titus a way out. If he could fly that is.
Can I fly?
Before the silence becomes uncomfortable several doors on the wings open and nine Guardians led by Simon make their way towards the newcomers. Two monks carrying registration scanners trail behind. The group stop a few feet behind Sacro and wait. Threatening, imposing, not doing anything, and impossible to read. Sacro’s shoulders have dropped slightly and he’s finally finished talking. His poker face returns. Dumachus looks at Titus with a suppressed distain as they wait for the show to unfold; where they will have something to react to, respond to, awaiting information to make an informed decision with. Anything.
“As it was written; after the revelation of the prophets the return of the lost brothers will bring about the fall, and only those with the mark will have passage in the new world. Meaning, everyone must take the mark. What was symbolic and ornate in your time has materialised into something real. The Atom chip, a tiny computer chip: one is injected in the back of your right hand, one injected into your forehead. Once you take the mark, you will have safe passage.” This will be Sacro’s last polite offer. The nine Guardians behind him are not just decorative.
There was too much under the surface unsaid. A cost. A price. Even Dumachus is hesitant.
Why? Because the elder wants both of us. Two robed monks holding hand scanners slowly approach the two, forcing the issue. This is going to give them something to react to. When Dumachus inches forward a centimetre, all nine Guardians flinch ever so slightly. Sacro is holding his breath. The monks are only a few feet away now and Titus can feel the uncertainty and fear radiating from them.
What hell has he planned for us?
“Careful, he’s already killed five of us.” Titus can hear the monks’ verbal stream of consciousness. His powers are getting stronger by the minute. He focuses on the monk approaching him, “Just scan him, then we control him.” Titus is taken aback when he hears this and finally understands what is going on. The moment he pulls away from the monk the nine spooked Guardians react. Four of them raise their hands and a massive force bears down on Titus, dropping him to his knees as if the gravity has increased tenfold. A fifth Guardian joins in and Titus is flattened on the floor like an animal rug.
Dumachus finally looks down at Titus trying his best to hide his smile. He drops to one knee and presents his right hand for scanning and registration. “You should send him to the Christian God. He’ll never join you.”
Sacro is a man of strict faith and not one to have his beliefs put into question. But after seeing Titus so defiant and Dumachus so aggressive and the hurt and anger felt by both: it does start to make him wonder. The shaking monk holds the scanner over Dumachus’s hand and a second later it beeps. Dumachus drops to all fours with his head down and mouth open, like one might just before their brain explodes. Short intermittent breaths and heart palpitations. It looks incredibly unpleasant.
“The initial shock is only temporary. You’ll adjust in a few seconds.” Sacro takes the scanner off the other monk and kneels down next to Titus.
“Come back into the Light son. Just give me your hand.” This was the very line the elder used to get him off the street when he was a boy. Word for word. Childhood trauma can make for a powerful motivator.
Never again.
Titus strains against the g-force and slowly raises his right arm. The Guardians looked surprised that he can even move. Sacro is relieved and smiles at him. Just as Sacro is about to scan his hand Titus focuses every ounce of physical and mental strength he has and slams his fist into the floor. The four-foot-thick floor shatters like tempered glass, dumping everybody and hundreds of tonnes of ice onto the lower levels.
Ouch.
The humans are unconscious but already undergoing accelerated healing. Most of the Guardians have broken several bones and are trapped under the ice. Dumachus is still recovering from registration. One Guardian is left standing. Titus gets to his feet and st
retches out his crushed muscles before directing his attention towards the Guardian. The stand-off doesn’t last long. The Guardian nods his head to Titus and turns to help dig out any survivors.
This is it. Now, how do I escape? Titus casts his eye to skylight above his head. The original drill. Titus puts his arms to his sides with his hands facing the ground. He closes his eyes and focuses his thoughts. Tiny bits of ice and shattered flooring begins to shake and levitate around him, he tilts his head back, exhales, and feels nothing. Annoyed at himself he opens his eyes and looks down to see that he is in fact ascending quite quickly. I can fly! He looks up in time to brace for the impact of crashing through the skylight to freedom.
The brightness of the sun reflecting off every surface with none of the heat. The wind like a hurricane blowing tiny frozen bullets into the eyes and ears, dulling the senses and disorientating the sufferer. Titus crashes into the snow but is instantly back on his feet ready for a fight. What the hell is this?
His eyes have adjusted. Snow as far as the eye could see. A cold white desert with low dark clouds. Titus recalls flashes of Sacro’s memories concerning geography. Capital cities, power stations, dams, population; the blue prints for worldwide domination. Discarding that thought for now, Titus gets a feel for where he is and the best direction to travel to find land. Before he is even a few meters from where he landed Dumachus crash-lands next to him. Titus watches Dumachus try to come to grips with where they are, just as he did a moment ago. To adjust to the conditions he throws up a force field shielding his face, hundreds of wind swept snowflakes bouncing off the invisible wall.
“This is so like you! Damn you! Everything we believed in, worked for, killed for, died for, all for nothing. Because the king of Jews was kind to you. Where was your kindness when I needed it? Huh?” Dumachus is now barrelling towards incoherence, Titus knows he has to interject before it becomes out of hand.
“I will no longer be their slave.”
Dumachus is quick to respond. He is speaking with more clarity now, as though his emotions have been realigned. “You overestimate your position in the grander scheme. This is greater than the lives of a few loved ones, or even our own. We answered a higher calling that night.”
“What we stole that night wasn’t divine, it was cursed. And so are we.” Titus stamps his foot down releasing a huge amount of energy knocking Dumachus several feet back.
By the time Dumachus is up, Titus has gone.
CHAPTER III
Jason
Hours leading up to Present Day
“Jetson three-three-five, intercept the localised runway two seven right, cleared ILS two-seven-right,” says the voice on the other end of Jason’s radio.
“Cleared two-seven-right.” Jason, eager to arrive to the holy land, puts his trust in the traffic controllers on the other end of the radio as he heads towards a blanket of white snow.
“Jetson three-three-five, cleared to land two-seven-right.” That’s the news he is waiting for. His radar and navigation light up with the information one needs to land on an Antarctican facility. “Roger that, Argus tower.”
Up until now the journey had been smooth from flying in the boundaries between layers in the atmosphere. Jason switches off the autopilot and steers the plane into a dive, hitting the high winds of the Troposphere.
They want me to land where? No visible landing strip. Just an undeterminable depth of snow. Jason lowers the landing gear, gradually decelerates his little jet. Relying on the HUD he prepares to land, biting his bottom lip as he dips the landing gear into to the fallen snow. The suspension kicks in and to his relief the wheels grip the hard flat surface. He drops the flaps and reverses the engines and within one minute he is stationary. Jason unclenches and exhales what he had thought was going to be his final breath.
A small round hatch opens outwards, pushing feet of accumulated snow off its top. A small head pops out of the hole and makes contact with Jason, gesturing him to follow. Jason climbs out of the cockpit, opens the side exit and bounces down. He slams the jet door shut, shelters his face from the snow and rushes through the open hatch towards the warm air and away from the blistering cold. The hatch closes, the harsh wind diminishes and the feeling begins to return to his hands and face. Jason waits for his welcome party to catch up. The heavily robed man climbs down the ladder carefully, pauses briefly when he reaches the landing before revealing his identity. Pulling back on the hood he shakes off the snow and exposes his head to the now warm and gentle air. Jason recognises him as the peculiar man he saw in the bar two nights ago. A man that goes by the name, Sarin.
“Any personal effects?” he asks.
Jason shakes his head. “No. I won’t need them.”
Sarin seems a little surprised and pleased with his response, giving Jason an approving nod. Well aware that a detachment to the physical world is part of the doctrine, Jason is happy to leave his Earthly possessions behind. Without saying another word, the Follower leads him down a tight corridor to a hover-rail car, climbs inside and activates the control. A slight vibration from the engine and a delicate hum is felt throughout the warm cabin. He turns to Jason and with a tone of warning he says, “Hold on.”
The hover train careers deep underground, cutting through the air at incredible speed. The initial thrust reminding Jason of flight school g-force training. The six seated open faced cart whizzes by different levels of the massive establishment, Jason looking in in wonderment.
“This section of the capital was recently bored, an extension to accommodate for the recent influx we are about to receive.”
Jason has no real response so he feigns interest, nodding his head and pursing his bottom lip. The peculiar man continues.
“I read that you were initiated in California. You follow the Chargers or 49ers?”
“I don’t know. I don’t watch baseball.” Jason is ignorant to the fact those two teams represent football, and unknowingly blocked any chance of small talk with his tour guide.
“I mean are you from the south or north?”
“North, but it really doesn’t really matter anymore. It’s all about to fall right into the Pacific.” The rail car passes some very large open chambers full of impressive looking machinery.
“We’ve just been passing the hydroponic bay and water supply distribution system, most of these are just storage facilities. We’ll be reaching the habitable areas soon.”
Jason decides to capitalise on the now loquacious guide. “What’s it like to live here?”
“Transforming something uninhabitable into a haven, creating life where there was none. A place with no sickness or death, everybody has a purpose working towards a common goal. It’s paradise. I don’t know what the non-believers have heard about us, but we can do some things that might even surprise you.” Sarin turns his body to face Jason’s square on. Jason give an expected response.
“How do you know what would surprise me?”
“Because I’m in your head.” His lips do not move but his voice is clear as a bell. Jason does his best to keep his composure but he just had another man’s voice in his head.
Doing what he can to ignore the violation, Jason presses him on. “How is it you are able to do that?”
“Genetic resequencing of certain parts of my brain has allowed me access to certain abilities. An Atom chip inserted in my forehead and the back of my hand controls the millions of nanotech coursing through my veins. That is how we are able to do this, and we have gotten very good at it.”
“You have the mark.” An obvious statement but Jason’s feeling a little behind the eight-ball and wants to prove that he belongs.
The rail car comes to a sudden halt. On the landing stand two very imposing Guardians. Jason has heard of them, but to have what has only been a conjecture now realised in the flesh, is a little confronting.
“These are the Guardians. I know you’ve heard of them.”
Jason tries best to prove his worth, “Akm-la verse twelve c
hapter five. But not actually…”
“They’re clones,” he blurts out interrupting Jason, “brought to life when a spirit possesses their body. Facing no resistance from an absent host soul, the spirit can stay there until the body eventually dies.” Sarin takes some pleasure in explaining the particulars to him before the Guardians lift Jason out of the cabin, inspecting him closely. “They’ll be indoctrinating you from here on in. The vetting process is, thorough, to say the least. We don’t let just any of our transoceanic parishioners through the gates.”
Jason is still in awe of the Guardians and figured he’s in deep enough to ask of more from him. “Where do you get the spirit from?”
The robed man just exchanges a glance with the Guardians, a look Jason can’t quite interpret. Somewhere between respect and trepidation. The uncertainty is off putting and not the best feeling to leave Jason with. Maybe that was his plan. Jason hadn’t met many Antarcticans before. Perhaps they are all a little socially awkward. They have been living a life of isolation for many centuries.
The Guardians lead Jason down a long corridor to be processed, the robed man watching him the entire way.
The only thought bouncing around his brain, silencing all others is, “Ve have vays of making you talk…”
CHAPTER III
Elder Desdom
We didn’t anticipate this. This is not how the prophecy goes.
The Central Control Room is a buzz with activity and high emotions. Damage control is in session with all the inner circle present.
“What does that mean for our army?” “Are our interpretations wrong?” “The structural integrity in sector twelve is below safety standards due to the incident…”
How did this happen? Elder Desdom silences the room with his booming voice, “How did this happen!” The group look to Sacro to answer that, being the one who facilitated the resurrection and oversaw the entire operation.
Titus (The Anno Ruinam Book 1) Page 5
