The nation became divided, one side accusing the other of doing horrible things to the people. Differing views became a punishable offense. Our freedoms were used against us and were slowly taken from us, beginning with speech. People were offended by our history, so monuments to our past were removed from parks and memorial sites. Names and events were erased from the history books to spare any hurt feeling. Safe areas were created where one could go and cry when offended by others. Art, history, music, and any records from the past that were deemed offensive or inappropriate were simply erased from existence.
The news of the day pushed the political agenda to further the control of the masses. People would believe what they heard from their side, no matter what evidence was provided to the contrary by the opposing side. Organizations of hate became a more viable source of information to people who were too eager to belong to something.
The laws of nature no-longer applied to many people, they felt that if they wanted to believe something, then it was fact. “I think, therefore I am” seemed to become the motto of the day. Men became women, boys became girls, white people became black, adults became children, and children became adults.
This led to chaos, confusion, riots, panic and violence. The very people who were tasked to protect the streets were gunned down in cold blood. Political leaders were killed in the name of revolution, and the assassins held up as heroes. Criminals were the new leaders, followed by the blind and desperate.
When you erase the truth behind history, no matter how bad it might be, you create a new generation of ignorance and hatred.
But, isn’t that what he was doing, and all the leaders before him? They hid the truth of our history for years. I was already lost, but consumed by the words written down that seemed to be hypocritical. I needed more information, so I continued to read.
The world saw our chaos and weakness. They used our own infighting to attack us. Great rockets and missiles carrying death and destruction crossed the globe and struck down with great fury. Nations from all over the earth seemed to unleash a hell that had never been seen. Nations from across the sea, nations from the north and the south, nations who once claimed friendship, all attacked our people. Once we were deemed to be weak enough, the other nations began to turn on each other. The skies rained fire for many years, bringing with it a poison that killed nearly all life on earth. The poison circled the world in massive clouds of radiation.
Somehow, small pockets of people survived, not just across our lands, but across the world. The survivors were forced to adapt to the poisonous radiation in the air and in the water. Some people adapted better than other and in diverse ways. Some became disfigured by the radiation, forcing them to cover themselves and hide from most other people. Those people became angry and turned to lives of crime. They are now called Raiders.
Some grew thicker skin, stronger organs, and had longer lives. Some grew taller and were forced to move to remote areas where there was more room for them to live. Some people became somehow connected to the earth. They were able to see across the veil to the other side, the side of spirits and the mystical powers of the earth.
I stood over the table with tea in hand and was overwhelmed by what I was reading. I took a sip of my tea, set the cup down and turned the page, unprepared for what I was to read next.
Before the war, a large group of people, mostly scientists and scholars, boarded ships bound for a group of large space stations built for that very purpose and connected as one. Like the fabled city of Atlantis, this group of stations would house the greatest minds from across the world. People from nearly every nation and background formed a new nation in the skies. Before they left the earth, they vowed to one day return and repopulate the world.
The lights from the great space station called Zion are seen from the ground. The historical tale, over a long period of time, became our religion, spurred on by the myth of what had happened before most people were born.
I closed the book and nearly dropped it. I was definitely not ready to read that. If I was reading it right, our entire religion was based from facts, twisted up and turned into something mystical and spiritual. The ancestors that we prayed to, asked for guidance, protection and comfort, were merely mortals, people like us. They couldn’t hear our thoughts, our prayers, our cries for help.
They are people, they might be smarter than most others, but people, none the less. They might not even be up there anymore, who’s to say they didn’t die up there and we were praying to an empty station holding the centuries old remains of dreamers.
I’m pretty sure that my heart stopped beating, and I stopped breathing for a moment. It was like somebody dropped a house on top of me. Everything I thought I knew just came tumbling down. My father knew it was all fake, yet he still taught me all about the mystical ancestors in Zion watching over the people and protecting them, leading them to greatness.
The noise grew outside, it was time for the nightly gathering around the firepit in the center of camp. How could I join them tonight? How could I face them, knowing that they believe in false hopes? What would they think of me if they knew? What would they think of my father and his father?
I tossed the book on the table and stared at it like it was a nasty beast that had just bitten me. I didn’t want to read any further, I was afraid of what I might find.
A thought crossed my mind…what about my mother? Did she know the truth? She practiced the faith as deeply as the Sisters of Zion, and Karline too. They had devoted their lives to the ancestors. Do they know that their gifts came from generations of poisoned air and not the ancestors? What would they think if they suddenly knew the truth?
I was astounded by what I read, I went to my room and took a seat on the bed facing the book on the table. I had a hard choice to make, tell the camp the truth about the ancestors, or keep it quiet. This was more disturbing than a hidden history, maybe both were troubling me.
I wondered why my father kept the truth to himself, and his father too. A leader must always have a reason for every choice he makes. What then, was the reason for keeping our history hidden and perpetuating the myth of the ancestors, the lies?
Breaking down every part of the myth, I began to see things in a new light.
The ancestors left our world long ago, true. They left a poisoned world behind them, true. They traveled to Zion, true. They will return one day, yet to be determined. They watch over us, possible, I guess. They hear us when we pray, false. They answer our prayers, false. They give us the power to see beyond the veil, false.
Part of the story is true, in a way. Details were left out, parts exaggerated, and things added, but overall, the pieces are there. Our power and strength comes from the very radiation the ancestors ran from, now we give them credit. I couldn’t understand it, or maybe, I didn’t want to.
I also needed to find the lesson behind our nations downfall. It wouldn’t be put in the front of the death book if it had no meaning. Forgetting our history seemed to be the beginning, or perhaps the catalyst in turning us against ourselves. Along with trying to change and control nature.
I tried to ignore the growing sounds of the nightly gathering, I was in no mood to see my people. I had too many thoughts running through my head and wanted to straighten them all out, so I continued to ponder the lessons.
My father wrote that hiding the truth of the past is, in part, the reason for the war. So, why would he have a hand in doing the same thing?
While trying to ponder my father’s intentions, there came a loud knock at my door. I knew that knock, it was Amos, “Come in,” I yelled not wanting to leave my post on the bed.
The door opened and Amos walked in, closing it behind him. His pistons hissed as he walked over to the table. He noticed the book, “You read that?” he asked.
I stood and slowly walked over to the table, “Some,” I said.
“It’s a history book, learn from it. Use it to lead your people the right way,” he said.
&n
bsp; I placed my hands on the table and leaned on them, “Have you read it?” I asked him.
“I helped write some of it.”
I didn’t know what to say, I just stared at my advisor.
“Yes,” he began. “I have read it in its entirety.”
“So, you know the pack of lies that have been spread from it, the falsehood that is the ancestor’s mythology.”
“Your bloodline used the facts to bind people together, the truth of the ancestors. Ove time it became more and more, until it evolved into our people’s faith,” he paused and slid the book across the table to me. “Read all of the death books. Learn the truth behind the facts. Learn the lessons that have been learned before you, and lead your people to the promise land as your father knew you would. Be hailed up as our savior.”
I took a seat and placed a hand on the book, “How can I look at my people knowing that they pray to mere mortals who don’t hear them? They’re people like you and me,” I said.
“Not like you and not like me. They escaped the radiation. They are un affected by the poison, a pure version of us, Jacob” Amos said.
I leaned back in my chair as I had a thought, “What about your story, Amos? What of your pact with the ancestors to save your life?” I asked.
Amos laughed, “My story has nothing to do with the ancestors.”
He pulled out a chair and took a seat, “People have made up their own stories about me for years, and with each telling, it gets more elaborate,” he said.
“But you never correct them, you know what they think and you let it stand,” I said confused.
“That’s true. Letting people believe what they want about me adds to my position as Chief Advisor. It gives people more confidence in me.”
“What is the truth about you?” I asked.
“The radiation that covered the earth effected people in many different ways. My line was gifted with long life, or cursed. Our skin is thick, our organs stronger. That is why my body can be mended with technology. The goggles I wear are a part of me, my flesh has accepted them. The bones in my leg have fused with the metal knee and the flesh around it has fused. My fixes are, in fact a part of me now.”
“And the bear attack?” I asked.
“The attack is what led me to needing the goggles and the knee in the first place. I would have lived either way, because of the strength of my body, but my life would have been difficult. I made no pact with the ancestors. It was the poison they ran from that gave me my long life. I was confined to bed for weeks after the attack, but my body was healing itself and merging with the new eyes and knee.”
I buried my head in my hands, not knowing how to process the information.
Amos continued, “One thing that not many people know, is that the bones in my hand were also replaced. Under my flesh are metal rods instead of bone.”
“I don’t know what to do, Amos,” I said with my face still buried.
“Every leader must choose for himself, what he does with the information he is given. He must look deep inside himself, find what kind of man he is going to be, what kind of leader. Then he must pull that man out from within and bring him to the surface for his people to follow. What are you willing to do, to hide, to say to your people to keep them together? That is the real weight of your title. A leader must know what truths to perpetuate, what lies to continue, and how much of that lie he is willing to bear on his own shoulders. It is that man, the man brought from the depths of your soul that will be held accountable, will be remembered, and honored. Leaders have made these decisions for as long have man has walked the earth.”
“A man’s actions are remembered by history. Not his thoughts, not his intentions. His actions,” I said.
I stood and began to pace around the small room. After a moment or two, I stopped and spoke again, “That is not actions,” I pointed to the book on the table. “That is full of thoughts and ideas along with the truth that has been hidden by every leader for the past two-hundred years, if not more. How can I be a great leader if I continue to cast a shadow over my people? Keep them in the dark about the ancestors and the true cause for the magic that my mother uses? How can I be truly great as a leader if I hide from them? Forget leader, how can I be a great man if I continue the deception?”
Amos responded, “That is the mark of a great leader, Jacob, making the correct decisions that are the best for his people.”
I sat back down and grabbed the book. I wanted to scream, I wanted to ask my father what his reason was for the deception. I didn’t know what I was to do.
Amos stood, slid the chair back under the table and spoke, “Read the book, read all the books. You might find the answer you are looking for.”
Amos left my home, leaving me confused, angered and completely lost.
TO BE CONTINUED
Jacob's Reign_The Reign Begins Page 6
