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That's right. Legolover-361 (that's me!) has returned to write a third chapter for The Grand Creation.
I wrote this all today, spread out over the course of several hours. It's a first draft, so please treat it as such.
I've started to read Leviathan, by Scott Westerfeld, and my writing style has shifted a bit in accordance; it doesn't make for an uncomfortable difference with my other chapters, but on the off chance you find this chapter a bit unique, that's why.
I wrote this all today, spread out over the course of several hours. It's a first draft, so please treat it as such.
I've started to read Leviathan, by Scott Westerfeld, and my writing style has shifted a bit in accordance; it doesn't make for an uncomfortable difference with my other chapters, but on the off chance you find this chapter a bit unique, that's why.
- Spoiler:
- The Grand Creation
Epilogue
“I hear a lot has happened recently.”
Raal nodded. Around him and Jakara, the mid-morning crowd bustled noisily. A scattering of clouds in the sky above helped to abate the searing sunlight, though not by much; the sand underneath Raal’s feet was still rather warm. “We’ve recovered from it all, though.”
“‘Recovered’?” Jakara repeated. The Fire Agori was just returned from a trading expedition in the Water Tribe’s village; he had missed all the action, and it was (unfortunately) Raal’s job to explain. “It was that bad?”
“Aye.”
“Tell me.”
“I’ll tell you all you need to know,” replied Raal. “Over shopping. C’mon, I’m starving for a snack.”
There were plenty of stands along the street they took, their owners shouting out to passers-by about the juiciest fruits in the entirety of the Fire Tribe’s village. Their cloth overhangs were pale white, blanched by the sun, yet Raal and Jakara crossed under several solid shadows as they filled up two wooden baskets with juicy fruits, not yet dried out by the sun.
They were walking back to Raal’s house when he finally spoke again: “The Great Beings were involved.”
Jakara scoffed. “Course they were. They’re involved in most anything controversial that happens these days.”
“Aye,” Raal said again. “But this was worse.”
The other Agori studied his friend for a long second. High above, the clouds parted, letting the sun shine through. Raal grimaced as he waited; they had to get the fruit inside before the liquid inside was evaporated.
Finally Jakara said, “I’m not gonna bother guessing, because I can tell I’d fail.”
“Well. In a nutshell: The Great Beings built a gigantic robot, it was sabotaged, the launch date was rescheduled, and on that day the darn near blew the sun off its perch. Pretty hellish sight if you ask me — and I was there.”
“Probably shouldn’t’ve been.”
“True, true.” Raal glanced back up at a sudden dimming of the air around him; the clouds had closed again. “But drop that scarabax. They’re Great Beings; they told us that, and we believed them. How were we to know that ‘Great’ was an empty title?”
He glanced up to the sky again.“Let’s get the fruit in my house. I’ll give you the details after. I swear, Jakara, we ought to pick up our pens and write a story about the whole thing.”
* * *
Perhaps, Angonce reflected, the Grand Creation hadn’t been the best idea. No matter: It was a failed experiment, and nothing more. In short, it was a mistake; and mistakes could easily be remedied.
Protasious, the Elder, was dead. Somehow, relief came to Angonce with that fact. Sorrow remained, of course, buried somewhere beneath, for no death was truly painless. And yet — Protasious had been reckless, foolish, even, in his pursuit for power and glory, always reaching higher than was truly possible.
Maybe in several thousand years we could build a gigantic robot like the one we just attempted, thought Angonce. But not now. Not until we can install more safeguards.
And speaking of safeguards...
The door to the council chamber opened, silently, as usual. Heremus stepped in, his lower pair of hands laced behind his back, his upper pair hanging loose. He must feel relieved, as well.
Behind him was Raeir. He, two normal arms and all, stepped into the room looking somewhat confused. “I must ask, Angonce,” he said, stepping up to the table, back rather stiff: “Why?”
“Protasious is dead,” Heremus offered with typical bluntness. Raeir glanced to the other, but the four-armed Great Being said no more.
“I... I still don’t understand.”
Angonce nodded in understanding. “You will, in time. We are here to help you. As, of course, are the rest of the Great Beings.”
Raeir digested that, a finger curled underneath his chin in thought, eyes half-closed. Thinking — knowing Raeir, thinking hard.
“The Council voted greatly in favor,” prompted Angonce. “Those who did not vote for you were not displeased.”
At last Raeir’s eyes snapped open.
“Angonce,” he said, his hands dropping to his sides, chest puffed out just a little in an attempt at proper posing, “as it is surely my duty to assist the Great Beings in time of need, and as I will have intelligent minds like yours and Heremus’s when I myself am in need of assistance, I humbly accept the Council’s decision to have me as the new Elder of the Great Beings.” His shoulders slid from their stiff posture, slumping a little in relief — or perhaps nervousness. “I can only hope I live up to their expectations.”
“You will,” said Angonce. “We’re sure of it.”
Heremus merely nodded.
Raeir nodded, too, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face. “Then let us bring the Great Beings into a new era — one without such struggles for power as my predecessor waged.”
Angonce smiled in return. “Agreed, my friend. And the sooner, the better.”
* * *
Casiria.
The wind, albeit warm, somehow chilled Rohkea’s soul.
She sat a ways outside the Fire Tribe village’s official boundaries, atop a sandy rise, legs curled up beneath her chin. The adrenaline of the past month’s suspense had ceased; and with the lapse came again thoughts of her lost friend.
Lost forever.
Eternity was such a strange concept.
Why? She flung the question at herself, felt it echo throughout her brain. No response, just the echoes, a pitiful attempt at filling up that empty space which had once been whole.
“I’ve always been the one looking out for you. I guess this’ll force you into looking out for yourself.” And Casiria let out a little bark of laughter.
“It’s not funny!” said Rohkea.
“I know,” Casiria called back; Rohkea could practically hear the Sand Glatorian rolling her eyes. “But it makes me feel better.”
A tear slipped down the Ice Glatorian’s cheek, underneath her helmet.
No. Her right hand curled into a fist, cupping up a thousand granules of sand in its palm. Let it go. The sand slipped through her fingers like so many lost souls, gone from this life. What came after? Was it nice?
Let it go, you scarabax!
Rohkea stood up abruptly, the rest of the sand flying into the air as her right hand burst back open. The sun shone done fiercely from above, but she did not care. It was not the one thing Rohkea now focused upon with the entirety of her mind, thought processes all directed toward a central subject.
The sun was not Casiria; and though it helped to think of her as the sun, it was nothing but futile imagination. Childish, even.
By the gods, I... I can’t let this rule my life!
Perhaps...
No. Unthinkable, undoable; it would not work.
She pushed the thought away. Her subconscious pushed it back.
Perhaps...
Perhaps she could live with the pain.
The tear slipped off her chin, dropping to a hot, dry landing in the sands below. She looked to the sky. There was a scattering of clouds there, lit brightly by the late morning sun: a beautiful sight. This world was not such a bad place, after all.
Casiria would have wanted her to enjoy it.
Maybe Rohkea would forget someday. But she doubted it.
She turned back to the village, Casiria’s voice echoing in her mind. Her, standing by the controls, her hand grasped tightly around the lever with typical Casiria stubbornness though she knew full well she would die.
“All your life you’ve hated yourself. This is my way of telling you not to be so timid.”
She walked, one step at a time, into the village, her glazed-over eyes ignoring all who passed her. Maybe she wouldn’t — couldn’t — stop hating herself. Not now, not ever.
But she could try to be brave.
If not for herself, for Casiria.
* * *
“No,” murmured he. “No more. No more...”
The babbling trailed off into silence. The darkness around was impenetrable. But then, that was how he wanted it. Silent. Lonely.
Perfect.
“No more of their crazy experiments—”
He broke off. Had that been the sound of a footstep? A long second passed — no more noise.
“—no more of their stubborn selfishness—”
His fingers laced together, even though he could not see them. And he smiled, knowing that if there were sunlight, his teeth would be gleaming most disturbingly.
“No more. They are dead.”
A laugh, sounding as though it were torn from his throat. “I killed them.”
