“You, my friend, are talking idiotism. Control yourself. Save it for an actual anarchy, will you?”
“Do whatever you want to, I am off to sleep as such,” I said.
I scorned that lady way too much than I should have. Artha Collisque, the Stillite with all that charm. Flex started taking leaves from work to spend time with her. He started ignoring each and everyone around him. But it all came to a temporary halt when Artha had to return to Earth. As such, she was there on a limited private permit. She returned back to earth. But Flex didn’t return to his original self. He was so much attracted to her that he couldn’t withstand her absence. He tried to contact her through the Master Grid. But it all didn’t last long.
One day, while resting in the common room, I and Flex considered getting acquainted with our current world status. So, we powered up our graphics transmitter and tuned its frequency to the official channel. There was a news about the creation of the “Iconoclasts” being in the tentative phase. It involved a rigorous selection of the three willing as well as capable elites from amongst the Sentinels. Then there was a news regarding the current commotion caused by the Stillites. They always made the headlines. But before we could discuss anything, the unholy happened. There was a news about the official encounter and death of a Stillite leader named Santino Collisque. It was followed by the news of the death of his daughter named Artha Collisque as collateral damage. Flex sat there staring at the vast screen meticulously. Suddenly he turned to me, “Meet me in a month. She said. I…” he said as he got up to leave.
“Brother, control yourself... calm down brother. “
He didn’t say anything and just left. I heard that he left for Earth as soon as the next carrier arrived. I didn’t hear from him for a month. I returned back and tried to inquire about his whereabouts. They told me that a few days back ‘he came to the Royal Office with his Curriculum Vitae and Resume and requested for a difficult task suitable for his department though impossible for his experience’. He was persistent, but they couldn’t help so they requested him to come back with better qualifications and experience (the fact leading to the 72 majors in 2 years and 16 professional degrees in the next ten). I came to know that he had returned to the base institution and had applied for the masters. Firstly, I went there and registered myself. Then I came back home and tried to contact Flex. When I couldn’t reach him, I went over to his apartment.
He opened the door. His expression was one of rather an indifference. I asked him – “Are you … fine mate?”
“Explain ‘fine’?”
That was vintage Flex. “I mean. Are you good now? I mean better… I mean... How are you feeling?”
“I am feeling human, And I do regret that,” came the sardonic reply.
“What are you saying? You are acting so unlike your newly founded self and a tad bit like a gloomy version of your old, boring and discarded self.”
“You are imposing a fallacious thesis.”
“What happened? Mate, something has changed. You sound even more inhuman.”
“Inhuman… Sabrink! The truth is that we are all still. But we tend to evolve, and that’s the irony since evolution is also a cycle.”
We had a long conversation that day. But soon he bid me off his building saying it was too late. I guess it was too late. It was too late to compel him to come back to his senses... while it was too soon to try and do so. Nothing could have been done at that moment. I saw a presence of something new in Flex. His eyes were all calm; although he was very angry as if he knew what to resort to. This was the day which practically changed it all between us (though we remained best friends ever after because I was the only one he could stand, and also because I was afraid that he might cause big casualties by talking.) Flex changed and changed again. Changed back to his own self or even a more of his own self. This new foundation of his own seemed more static than before. It had no gateways to general emotions. Well, I guess a sarcastic coincidence of fate… these happenings boasted of eternal Stillness.
All this… it ended it all… it started it all… and the cycle went on. It started what would be the greatest unintentional indirect creation of the Eutopium. It had all changed for the universe and its future, for it had all changed for Flex. In Flex’s words “Youth is the phase one must quickly turn his back to, for lies it nourishes nothing but lies. Lies which cloud our mind from reality. But those times are past for me now.”
No one could have helped him. No one could have done anything. For fate had already decided and scripted it in the past and launched it to the future. The chapter of the old was closed now. Many may suggest it a misnomer… but for me those days… were ‘The Good Old Days’.
Into The Dimension:
Episode 11-
Escape to the Darkness.
“9
…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…0… Igniting Krydon Primary Launch Thrusts. Krydon Launch panels retrieved. Destination Krikos. Mission ‘Exodus’ Initiated.” The Visi Screen announced.
The hypothetical observer sat on a hypothetical bench outside the hangar. He could just see the massive thrust of the Krydon breaking through every wall of the Station. The Krydon escaped the Station. To add gravity to the heroic escape, the observer imagined how it would have been if the sound was transmitted through the vacuum. The Hypothetical Situation aroused hypothetical anxiety and curiosity in the hypothetical mind of the hypothetical observer. He thought for a while about the possibility of sound actually travelling without a medium, the very perks of that situation added to the grandeur of the massive heroic launch and the question of the observer came with the only possible answer and conclusion “Really Awesome”. He observed the Krydon blast easily through the Planetary Blockade. Then he saw a massive light tail emerging from the Krydon as if the Hexkon Thrust was being activated.
The light intensified and just as it reached its brightest magnitude, it vanished… leaving behind only pure darkness.
♦♦♦
The pitch black indoor darkness of the D1Z1 library was broken by a beam of light through the slow-opening of the ancient back-door, marked by an intense ancient creaking. A shadow expanded through the beam inside. The suspense was killed by the small patch of light falling on the face of the walker. He was none other than the robot library assistant, Mrew.
“Sir… Master… hello there. The door is open. You still there? Hello, oh!” he spoke, tearing through the loudness of the silence. He walked in, unlike the common behaviour of a Robot, frightened with a drooling quandary. He first went to that archive of the library which was most visited by his master Hoko. Hark…. There he found shredded pieces of archaic ‘paper’ along the way to the inner section. But that was not all. He moved ahead to find spilt Phransuels over the broken and shattered machinery, seeming like the aftermath of a heavy physical resistance. But he couldn't conjecture the answers to the gloomy questions engulfing him as well as the Hypothetical observer. Mrew then thought- ‘The main problem is not master’s whereabouts. He always resented fighting and resorted to pragmatic negotiations only. So, what and who could have lured and compelled him to such a heavy physical response? Exactly what did he find in those old databases?’
♦♦♦
The D1Z3. The ecstatic voices of the awaiting crowd amplified with passing seconds. The lower port-exit-directing tunnel opened with a great thrust of Air, mainly to maintain pressure and balance ratio on either end. Then, there was pure silence for a few seconds. The large gates had now been retracted. The jaws dropped to the knees as they witnessed a hole in the crust of the realm itself. It seemed as if the whole Krikos was opening. But no. That hole was no observable geometry on the Krikos and was probably confused with many other asteroid scratches, hardly visible to the safe naked eye. But from the inside, it was rather a different situation. The point outside was like a never-ending breakdown of the earth inside.
A heavy bass and there it was… the Krydon appeared above the tu
nnel horizon. The public charmed... The guards alarmed. The craft hovered for some time to land on the then closed panels. The Krydon doors slid open. Sigh! The reborn Sentinels, led by the Ultimate and Penultimate combatants – Krawn and Kridious. Ironically, they were more popularly known as the singular Captain Krawn and the ladies’ man VIN. The cheers of the crowd didn’t seem to mitigate the Officers, who had returned from a devastating journey. They walked down in the usual brisk and swag along with their new-found mate. They realised that the whole thing about “we come in peace” was a drab, since even “I come as a friend” couldn’t please the mindless and irrational crowd. Not as if it was their mistake. They had only witnessed the apparent pleasures of royalty.
The Officers were escorted to the Royal Bus with the Imperial Councillors, Irusan Delasere and Wrix Titus, waiting for them in the transport ship’s meeting room. The injured officers were taken to the D2Z3 Zone Medicus for healing purposes. Prabarus was escorted by the safety and research squad to another chamber under the right to protection of official information under code ‘Lattice’.
After deep interrogation and analysis, the Eutopium councillors come to a representative decision to keep the information from the public.
They arrived at the D1Z5 council headquarters. While getting off the carrier, Krawn was reminded of Prabarus, and he questioned the two councillors only to hear that he had been kept isolated for a complete physical, medical and neural analysis. And also, though he was an apparent ally, the councillors suggested the possibility of him being a spy, considering the eccentricity of the scenario regarding Councillor Gorvez. Their policy of “If not our own then why to trust him” was almost the complete opposite of Krawn’s, that was “Trust no Human.”
The escorts arrived to lead the returnees and the councillors to the active council chamber of the Eutopium.
Eutopium Chamber No. 27.
Active Council emergency. 2,945th emergency sitting.
“Welcome Officers… We have been awaiting you,” Said the First Speaker Dragomir Lunarte.
The arriving guests walked inside the chamber and were allotted their seats in the decagon office.
Krawn looked around himself to find the highly eruptive dark faces and red eyes of the Councillors very intimidating.
“First things first. Captain… or I may now say JUST Krawn Xanethius. How is your wife?”
“She has been taken to the medic, Your Highness.”
“Oh! That’s good. Let her rest for a while. Ok now, moving on. Do you all know why I summoned you all here? Well, don’t get your minds worked up. Not yet. I have called you here since we are taking things to the upfront now. The Krikos is going to Annaeax.”
Krawn started “But, Your Highness, that much of H.T. will drain our core.”
“I am very well accustomed to that, but we have nothing else that we can do. Our core is depleting day by day. We need a resting platform for the time we re-stabilize it. Annaeax, as in the reports by the Visi, seems quite a good temporary habitation. We will make a deal with them. As such we have a traitor there we want to deal with.”
“And the matter about the Stillites?” Krawn questioned sparking utter chaos inside the council chamber.
“STILLITES YOU SAY? The mere word is an infringement of royal code ‘lattice’. How dare you speak it in the council chamber? If you weren’t the Xanethius you’d have been pursued by the Hexagon security.”
“But Your Highness. It is dangerous over there.”
“You can’t question me Krawn. As such, I have plans for you. And not you alone. During the H.T., people would have to be migrated from the south-eastern core for the thrust panels to emerge. I have elected you in charge of the immigration team. And not only you, I have jobs for all the Officers. We need you now not on the battlefront, for this time we are required to avoid a battle. And seeing the current situation, even you can tell that it is not your forte. So Krawn, this is a list of the various tasks you officers need to deliver in the name of humanity and the future. I have tried to instil informal responses, but I guess at this point it is rather not righteous to negate me. You may do as commanded. And until then, the councillors and I are leaving for the Combustion Zone 8. We are going to leave our light behind us. So, help as much as you can, by not intervening and just following. You may all go now.”
(Outside the council room, Krawn and his mates stood in the fusing enigmatic posture of curiosity)
“What about Witty? He getting out, right?” Rush Questioned.
“What is this? What in heavens do they want us to do? ESCORT PEOPLE…. And… and what is this? Making departure plans and organising immigration? What are we … “Travel Agents”?” the short-tempered Kridious complained as he read through the Royal Command Scroll. The “Sentinels” … or what’s left of them, had been finally morally disbanded as well. They moved with a cloud of gloom cloaking them.
‘Why?’ –yet again the Hypothetical Observer thought.
Was it because of the death of their crewmates? Or because of the ones who were injured? Or the ones who betrayed? Or the ones who had been subdued by their own people? Not at all. It had always been because of one and only one reason. For humans, it had always been about winning and not settlement. Thus, there was one thing which had been rooted down to the very base of humanity- WAR. One fights wars to win. But more than that, one wants to win with wars. The lust for war has always been more than the lust for victory. And why doesn’t war end? There is a simple answer to that. Wars don’t end because some hypocrites try to bring an end to them through their own ways. Trying to end it prolongs it. And also without war, the humans were raged to seek even further conflict. The Sentinels were, unfortunately, humans to their core. One cannot deny his core. To bring the war to an end, one must not seek war. One must seek the end.
♦♦♦
“Ol’ man? HEY… Anyone there? Mrew!!! Anyone?” shouted Kridious, having to wait 15 minutes after ringing the first doorbell. He was standing outside Verdo Hoko’s residence. He had come here after finding the library strangely locked, which had never happened before. But there everything seemed normal. Hoko was never home. His real home had always been that Library. Just when he turned back, the door opened behind him. It was Mrew.
“Come in Master Kridious. Fast. They are there,” he whispered as he grabbed Kridious’ arm.
“Okay... Wait… who is there?”
“Come in. I thought it is them... I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“Everything about what? What is happening here… and where is the Old guy?”
“That Sir. Master Hoko has been taken.”
“Taken!!!!... What?”
♦♦♦
“That doesn’t make any sense, does it? It is what I am talking about. We have 6 active Combustion sites but they choose the heavy prototype. Why the hell?” Nahcas said to Krawn.
“Let us speak a little softer my mate. She is still resting inside. As such, it is getting late for us to leave for D3Z7. You can acquaint me with your knowledge in the Rimor. You are the only analyst I trust and would even think of hearing,” Krawn replied.
“And don’t forget… we got to check on Rush. He was bent on finding Prabarus. We can help him out,” Nahcas said.
♦♦♦
The Sentinels moved to their required positions in the war-less battlefield. No one knew what was happening in the labyrinthic conundrum of the Universe of the Krikos. Where was Castino? Where was Prabarus? Where was Verdo? What were the Stillites doing on Annaeax? And why was the Eutopium bent on the NO-WAR theory? ‘What is the future?’ Thought the clueless omniscient being of the hypothetical observer. Knowing something and comprehending it are two different things of course. He somewhat knew that the escape of the Krydon from the grasp of the antagonistic Stillites was probably not an escape in its general sense. It was an escape from damnation though. But an escape into the darkness.
Diaries of Flex:
&
nbsp; Episode 12-
The Holy war.
W
ar, the ruthless blight engulfing the heart of every being, just like a genetic virus. The body and mind evolve with time to a seemingly ideal quotient, but the urge to gain more remains in the heart of humans. To those who fight, their cause is justified in their own conscience, while that of their adversary is preposterous. It is moreover obvious because otherwise, wars wouldn’t ever occur in the first place. 32 million years had passed since the evolution of humans from Homo Procragensis (or popularly known as Kindle-man), yet the cave-man qualities remained and self-sustained in our sub-conscious. We always hear the story from the side that fought and won. Not just because only the victorious live to tell the tale, but also because victory engulfs the reason to keep from getting mitigated by what they tell. It’s also because of the peculiar gullible nature of man. They don’t search for the truth, the cause. Probably because they leave it to the hypocritical and judgemental philosopher critics, who crave for fame more than peace. There are also those too weak to fight or take a stand against it. All in all, wars couldn’t be and couldn’t have been avoided.
After about 2 millennia of consistent wars, people had actually become used to them. The times of being afraid or caught-by-surprise had been phased out. They had started showing indifference and ignorance towards wars, especially those of materialistic origin. After the dawn of the Eutopium, wars based on the materialistic need of substance almost became a thing of rarity. It didn’t mean there weren’t many wars. There were, but of different origins. There were wars against the wrong policies of the Eutopium, wars supporting idiotic conspiracy theories, wars to gain fame and/or political limelight, and then there were wars of religious origin(the incessantly and eternally consistent type). Oh yes! Those wars... not exactly religious... but somewhat based on some belief. The most striking of them all was the one started by the Stillites.
Krikos: The Vertical Horizon Page 13
