“You mean exterminated?”
“No, I mean exactly what I said: exiled. It was a complicated process. They needed a weed called the Dionysus plant, when taken in small doses it acts as a hallucinogenic drug, but when you ingest too much a Cybrakyet (Person) can die. The Aakmanu would feed large quantities of this to an exile; they would slip into a psychoactive coma thus making their consciousness vulnerable to being harnessed. Once their consciousness had been trapped in a digital net, it was hurled through a vortex into another dimension. The exile is born on a new world in a new body and as they age they begin to become aware of who they really were, two personalities within their mind become locked in a paradoxical conflict, thus making them insane. In many ways you are right. Their body has died, but their consciousness has been sent away to decay in delirium.”
The Guy was speechless, the Aakmanu had invaded worlds before, maybe many times, perhaps they were really building an empire.
“That didn’t happen to you though,” he said, wanting to hear the rest of the tale.
“I discovered how their exiling process worked. They had sent their Cult dogs to capture me but fortunately I managed to recode their system so I could have a one way Rift Walking ticket. The last thing I remembered on Rylos was hearing them coming across the lake to my small island, then I woke up here. That was 18 years ago, 2 years before the Aakmanu entered this realm. I thought they had followed me through, but I was wrong. It seems to me they have been doing this for centuries, dismantling worlds just for their own amusement. Since I first awoke here I have been looking for a way back,” Ignatius walked over to a panel covered with buttons and a green screen, he wiped a trail into the thick dust with his finger.
“You think I can help you get back?” asked the Guy.
“Yes. The machine you are gazing at is an Amniotic Pod, created by the Amniotic Agency, a branch of government who would venture to other parallel universes to colonise empty worlds, or to build relationships with active ones.”
The Amniotic Agency, it sounded alarms in the Guy’s head.
Hilstrom Hartley, the lost lover.
Ignatius continued: “It is also referred to as an Omni-Dimensional Pod; when the subject has been submerged in the ‘amniotic fluid’ which pours out of those pipes, he/she briefly experiences every dimension that exists, simultaneously, causing their vessel to explode in the fluid. Their consciousness is then transported to another vessel on a parallel dimension.”
“How did the Agency know it was successful?”
“They didn’t, this machine was a prototype; the first of its kind. Only a handful of people volunteered as guinea pigs, but once the Agency couldn’t invent ways to track them, they shut it down. Back to the drawing board they went to reassess the technology. Sadly for me, it is the only way of achieving my goal.”
“Were the Amniotic Agency wiped out by the Aakmanu?”
“Partly, they were threatened by the power of their new technology, since the Agency did find a way to pass into other worlds. Some fled before the Cult could capture them. They did the same as me; they exiled themselves.”
“What makes you believe I can get this pile of scrap to work?”
“Because you are a Rift Walker, blessed with the knowledge of the Quantum. It is important that I get back to Rylos, by using the pod I will take on a new form, hiding me from the Aakmanu. I must return to free my Cybrakyets,” Ignatius’ eyes were full of pleading, he was pleading for his life. The Guy felt a rush of exhilaration knowing that someone else’s destiny was in his hands.
“Was Ignatius your name on Rylos?”
“No, the Shaman’s gave me that name after they bathed and fed me. My Ryolian name is Meneides.”
That night the Guy lay in candle light, what Meraylius had said about time rattled around in the maze of his subconscious. Ignatius’ tale stood at the forefront. He knew he had to meditate in order to achieve the enlightenment to perform such an intricate task. He thought about the Amniotic Agency, of Hilstrom, of Patrick Holness and of the High Occultist.
I have not forgotten you.
Nor have I forgotten you. Enjoy your little holiday with the Desert Shamans, I’ll be here waiting for you 1107, beneath the tangerine tree in the Moffatt Fields, enjoying the sweet nectar of unconscious thought. I hope you have a stable frame of mind for when we meet. I’m growing tired of entering the dreams of insane men and pre-menstrual women. I would love to be inside you again 1107, but I have forbidden myself to violate you, I’m saving myself for our unconscious matrimony. The day our minds collide and merge into one pulsating organism full of desire, power, sanity and ambition.
The Guy rolled a cigarette and smoked with passion, once he finished that he rolled another. The candle flame performed ballet on the wick, causing the wax to drizzle down the shaft and bead halfway into a solid ball. He blew it out and sat in darkness, watching the glow of his cigarette as he inhaled, and dim as he exhaled.
14
There was a rusted coach waiting for him outside the Lair of the Desert Shamans, when he boarded he saw a tour group of half decaying nuns. The Guy used the restroom to relieve himself, the coach began to drive and he hurriedly finished up and approached the driver.
“Where is this vehicle going?” he asked.
“To the City of Debauchery my friend,” replied the driver, flashing a sadistic grin.
“Stop the coach. I’m not supposed to be going there.”
The vehicle came to a sudden halt and pneumatic door let out a sigh of regret as it opened. The Guy was walking up a long road that wound up a hill, after walking for many miles he found himself back in Lament’s Corner. The town was a waste land, every building and wall was lined with disused cash machines, many covered up by lead slabs. Outside the Rift Inn Time there were countless scores of South African soldiers breeding strange humanoid creatures with insect wings and arachnid features. The Guy found a sword and chopped one into morsels, weeping with each thrust and swing.
The scene changed. He was in a mansion with a butler; the Guy wore a white apron and blue surgical gloves. They were both stitching a patchwork face onto a withered and feral corpse, he found himself becoming delirious, thinking he is surrounded by undead monsters that want to eat him and transform him. The world span like he was trapped in the eye of a tornado, somewhere amidst the chomping mouths there was a wicked amaranth glow, and a gruff sadistic laugh. The Guy began to cut his way through white fabric, but it was a useless endeavour since he was holding a pair of safety scissors designed to be blunt. There were voices in the wind, the sounds of people long dead or in another world. The scene was a cacophony of critics and beasts.
The Guy woke up in a wheel chair, restrained by leather straps and wearing the dead gunman’s goggles. His butler explained to him that he was poisoned and he begun to suffer from hallucinations.
“He forbade himself from controlling my dreams, or am I just going mad from paranoia?”
“Paranoia is just a clockwork mind frame tick tocking through the motions of sanity. A bite size slice of insanity sir. There is only one controlling this world sir, and that is you”
15
It rained.
Ignatius Polycarp stood outside taking in the cool moisture in the air, puddles settled in dips in the Earth and their liquid purity reflected the ivory moonlight. Most times he would think to himself out loud, so as not to feel alone in the world.
“I find it hard to sleep at night, especially the past few weeks. My grasp on the Island slackens with every day I wake. I will never be fully adjusted to this vessel of flesh and soft bone.”
“Isn’t there a way to find this realm’s equivalent of the Dionysus plant?” the Guy slipped out of the cavern entrance like a shadow. Ignatius looked at him then softly smiled.
“Alas no, I thought Yage would be my solution, but it only provided me with random snippets. The Shamans, who have only seen the inside of their lair, believe it is a marvellous drug that provides the Human
brain with exponential insight to the Cosmos. To me it is a cruel reminder of the life I used to have, before the Aakmanu.”
“I think I may be able to help you, whether it will work or not is another story and if it does work, I can’t guarantee you will successfully return to Rylos,” the Guy rolled a cigarette.
“I thank you for trying, at least. This is a terrible ordeal to go through; I thought reprogramming the exiling process would free me of the paradoxical conflict, but nothing can stop it from happening, I only slowed it down. There are two consciousness’s within me, one is Meneides of Rylos and the other is Ignatius of the Island. Both sides compete to be the dominant consciousness; they need to exist in balance. If the Ryolian side were to take over I would become rampantly insane, but if the Human side was to win then I would become mentally paralyzed: a vegetable.”
“How would you achieve this balance?”
“Through meditation, but I have tried and nothing will work, nothing here can settle me into a state of pure apathy.”
The Guy left and returned shortly with Heliodorus and another horse.
“Ride with me,” he said. “I can help you out with that.”
Ignatius mounted his horse and followed the Guy, they rode for a long time and stopped when they reached the ocean. The Guy dismounted, Ignatius followed suit.
“This is where I find my balance?” he asked.
“Yes,” the Guy replied.
“On Rylos, I often sat on the beach and gazed out into the vast plain of water, on our world the ocean is yellow. When there were no clouds the sea would look like it was made of solid gold and would twinkle like there were a billion stars beneath its surface. We Ryolians appreciated the natural beauty of our world, but I would still dream of visiting other planets, our technology was advanced but we didn’t crack interstellar travel. Now I’m on another planet and that youthful dream was nothing but a dream, I feel comfort standing here by the sea, but it doesn’t take away the fact that Humans destroy what they should love and respect. Natural beauty is nothing to them, as long as their pockets are lined with currency. Look at this thing called religion, I heard stories of these old Gods and the worship Humans gave them.
Teachings of honour, love, respect and truth, the core values. After the Aakmanu arrived everything went to the dogs, people began to forget those core values and just indulged in orgies of sex, violence and torture; like the ones down below. You indulge too, 1107. I’ve heard much and more about you that I wish I hadn’t, but I do respect you, and that is very important to me.”
“Who I am now isn’t who I have always been, Ignatius. Until I find a way to get the Pod working, you should come to this spot and listen to the waves roll back and forth like seeds inside a wooden container. Hopefully it will give you enough time to find a balance while I do my work,” the Guy mounted Heliodorus and rode back to the compound, leaving Ignatius Polycarp to mediate on his paradoxical conflict.
That’s how it carried on for the next fortnight; the Guy poured through various codes within his journal trying to find the right component to repair the broken Amniotic Pod. Ignatius, on the other hand, would ride out to the ocean and listen to the balance of nature. During that time the Guy wasn’t hindered by the Shamans, but he knew they were observing closely, scrutinizing his every move. A game of chess, or checkers.
He could feel eyes upon him at all times, people peeking into his work and into his quarters while he pondered Quantum calculations. By night the Guy would think about the High Occultist, but would not see him in his dreams. By day he would either stand in the Pod chamber and sketch out certain key components, or wander the Lair of the Desert Shamans. Sometimes he would spy couples engaged in secret acts of intercourse, possibly the ones who didn’t conceive on the night of the orgy. Concubines still sauntered into his chamber and offered themselves to him; the Guy would only pick the ones that really caught his eye.
Old habits, he often thought whilst ploughing them into gut wrenching orgasm.
On the third week he managed to connect the power supply to the Pod chamber and on the fourth week he heard the sounds of machines working in perfect synchronicity. The Guy had achieved his goal.
He summoned Ignatius to the chamber.
“It is done,” said the Guy in a tone of relief. Ignatius walked around the room inspecting the equipment.
“It appears to be functioning at full capacity, although I wouldn’t know exactly. Thank you, 1107.”
“Don’t thank me; it has not been tested yet.”
“There’s no time to test it, I am ready to travel, now. I have spoken with the Shaman’s and they gave me good counsel, Human counsel, but decent nonetheless.”
The Guy nodded, he wanted to be rid of that forsaken place, enough time had been frittered away and he could not ignore his true calling on the Island. Ignatius stripped naked and stepped into the pod. The doors sealed and he stared out of the glass and spoke his last words:
“Maybe one day, I will see you on Rylos, Rift Walker”
“Maybe you will,” whispered the Guy.
A string of algebra was typed into the computer, commands and coordinates flashed on the green screen. The Guy was asked if he accepted the plotted trajectory, and he accepted.
The Amniotic Pod began to fill with a turquoise liquid that appeared to have the same consistency as congealed blood. Ignatius became submerged in the fluid, floating as if he were trapped in a nebula. An alarm sounded and the green screen flashed WARNING. The Guy pulled up a seat, rolled a smoke, and watched.
The Amniotic fluid within the Pod began to bubble as if it was being boiled, Ignatius never opened his eyes and looked to be in a state of euphoria. His eyes moved with a super human rapidity. Suddenly his body exploded within the pod, causing the turquoise liquid to turn into black tar. The Guy jerked back in his seat and his cigarette fell to the floor, he stubbed it out with the heel of his right leather boot. The alarm ceased and the green screen of the computer had calmed. The black tar in the pod churned like putrid butter and was eventually sucked through the pipes, being pumped to some unknown destination.
The Guy was in a state of disbelief at the brutality of the transportation. The Amniotic Agency had created a feat in Human knowledge, but it still involved death. The Human condition was steeped in death.
But only through death can we be reborn.
Was that true though? What the agency had created was a one way ticket to some unknown hell.
If the Agency has to be proud of something; I guess it should be for creating a far more malicious form of exiling as the Aakmanu. Maybe the Gods created the rift in time themselves, allowing the reptilians to slip through as punishment for their experiments. Wasn’t science supposed to further the course of Humanity’s mental evolution? Instead it created more ways for people to murder one another.
Death is inescapable. It is the one inevitable force that exists on every dimension. Even immortality has its limits.
16
The Shamans rose to their feet in unison, their joints sounded like oak doors that haven’t been opened for many years. Incandescent orbs of tangerine burned where their eyes should have been and the smell of damp mud wafted in tendrils from their fragile bodies. They all spoke as one; voices harmonized like a barber shop quartet.
“Rift Walker, through the summers of irrigated time and vast meditation, we have decided to make you privy to our true selves. We are the original Cult of Aakmanu, those who brought about the fate of the Island’s soul. For years we have knelt in shame and regret, but now we may rise as one. You did Ignatius a great service, we perceived his new life in the Yage dreams, and though he is not back on his home world of Rylos, he is closer to fulfilling his goal than he has ever been. We shall raise your offspring as Rift Warriors so that we may fight the Aakmanu and bring about their demise.”
The Guy stared, feelings of frustration and interest mixed inside him like a sour cocktail crafted from mead and milk. He had never forgotten his pl
an to kill them all, but now there was a development. A chance to wipe out the reptilian infestation, but why should he care about such affairs? What stake has he got in such a spit of land? He was merely passing through, a dandelion seed floating on a breeze. Something inside, however, told him allow these vermin to continue their existence. It would only be a matter of time before the Aakmanu spread to further worlds, like warts deforming beautiful skin.
The Guy felt his eyes water and his sinuses tighten, the blood vessels in his nose had swollen with some kind of stirring emotion from the Shaman’s revelation.
“A blue print had been etched into my mind, a plan so vivid I thought I had already been through the motions. It seems that I should burn those plots and formulate anew. Too many times I have been led astray from the weathered path, my destination slowly becoming naught but a dream dreamt by some withered man in an asylum, in a past forgotten by the modern age. You must let me leave this place, I must face the inevitable.”
“To face the inevitable would be to face your own demise. Do you wish to die so soon, 1107?”
“The Aurora has scarred the heaven’s flesh and spilled its turquoise blood across the evening veil. Nobody wishes to die; nevertheless I must speak with the High Occultist and extinguish his amaranth radiance. It is what I have been chosen to do.”
“Why perish in such folly when you can stay here and bathe in victory and the pleasures of the flesh? Help us breed the army we have dreamed of for many years. Your destiny lies here.”
The Guy fixed them all with a stone eyed stare, his emerald eyes pulsating with a deadly cruelty.
“I had hoped not to venture down the road of threats, but it seems I must. I made some alterations to the Amniotic Pod whilst prepping for Ignatius. My plan was to fill this underground lair with the Amniotic Fluid and send you all to some unknown world, perhaps send you all to the Underworld. It would benefit me greatly not to do this as your plan to destroy the Aakmanu will allow other worlds to remain free. Let me depart from this dank place and I’ll overlook the wrongs you have done to me.”
Underneath the Draconian Sky Page 12
