Wicked Messenger by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 8
ACCEPTANCE, ELI, 6-9-98476. 6-9-2058 EARTH CALENDAR
At 2AM, with an audience of fourteen “Sunny” ASS members of the elite but waning “Codger Corps,” Ares Jarrod placed his name in Eli history books forever by climbing to the launch pad and shrinking. It should be noted that while this was one of the most significant events in the life of all Elis, the vast majority chose to get their normal rest as they rationalized that the event would either come off or not regardless of their attendance. As was their custom, the press expected to later obtain photos and the correct phrasing of the story from government sources. Ares waved goodbye and gave a confident thumb-up to the Codgers, who couldn’t see him well and had no chance of spotting his miniscule digit.
Vrrr, vroom, vroom, aaarooop and then LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT.
DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT.
DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT.
DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT.
DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT.
DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT.
DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK.
Ares found the visual display reminiscent of an antique 8MM
movie projector, speed set at painfully slow. His eyes wearied under the constant kinetoscopic presentation of images invisible
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to him. Excepting the three transmitters his rocket was a duplicate of its older brother. Though it was anticipated by no one, including the brilliant Completions, it did precisely the same thing and landed in the Sonoran desert, its sibling no longer in sight. Ares pushed his controller’s appropriate buttons, returned to full size and placed the rocket under a giant saguaro. He tested his “silver bullet” by obliterating a Gilded Flicker, which was investigating the large red bug it considered having for breakfast.
ESPERANZA, ARIZONA, 6-8-2058
The details filled in by Cronos must have triggered a process in Joshua’s unconscious mind, similar to falling dominoes, as he vividly dreamed of home. In his dream he saw the peaceful planet attain that lofty goal through the forced installation of a lethargy producing controller in all Elis.
They walked in methodical, tiny steps, made no reaction if another bumped into them, apparently not caring enough to fight with or love anyone; completely subjugated zombies. He saw that he was one of the ruling elite who had the option of changing moods, but the vast majority was permanently on official
“neutral,” a euphemism for cipher or zero. The “silver bullet”
he possessed was also rationed to the few and its existence in all sizes dictated peace. Rather than this peace being the
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result of an uplifting experience, the simple logic was that any war assured mutual annihilation and if accomplished the rulers would be left with nothing to rule, not even themselves. It was obviously a rational, acute sensory disordered (ASD, but not officially considered a disease or syndrome) realm. Peace employing rubber sex toys, V&V’s, and a high suicide rate, the implements by which to off one’s self available cheaply at all discount stores. Improvement? The conclusion was inescapable, as Elis now walked a living death and died at their own hands rather than the hands of an enemy.
Joshua woke with a start at 3AM and realized that Cronos’
was telling him the truth, at least as much of it that was of benefit to Cronos. He anticipated the good possibility of a showdown, and wanted to be alert and prepared. His eyes grew accustomed to the dark as he moved around his room, lit only by the vague and indirect half-moon. He felt safe in the shadows as he thought it gave him an advantage over Ares, a “Sunny,” who had spent his life in the constant presence of a now failing light. He had made the first of his decisions and wondered why it seemed so difficult yesterday. It was either him or Ares; a no brainer if there ever was one.
He stared out his window looking at the stillness of the night time desert. He was hoping for a sign, a warning, a flash; something to let him know it was time to go into action. As the
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sun’s light filtered over the horizon he saw a miniscule light streak out of the sky to the desert floor. He descended the stairs and went out the back door.
He slowly and carefully walked in the cover of cactuses and made a mistake; he started to re-think, just when action (execution) was the order of the moment. How could he be sure that Ares wanted to kill him? He had heard of the ambitious young man and thought it logical that Ares could be a hero by merely rescuing the mission. He didn’t have to risk the murder of an Eli. All he had was the suggestion of Cronos, an ambitious old man, who would do or say anything to maintain power. He wished that he didn’t ruin his controller, as he could now push the neutral button and merely do what was safe; shoot first and ask questions later. He cursed the influence Becky and Grandpa had on him, as prior to them he could have taken out an Ares in the course of another day’s work; no more, no less.
As he walked in the direction of the rising sun, Ares, too, was afflicted with thought. While he had no moral qualms with murder, he knew that if it was found out that he had killed Joshua his career would be over. Instead of having a chance at Cronos Titanby’s post, he would have a chance at incarceration.
The only one who claimed firsthand knowledge of Joshua’s being debilitated was Cronos, an excellent player of games. Maybe
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Joshua was in fine shape and ready. It’s better to assume that anyway. He was certain that he wanted to kill Joshua for his own purposes, but couldn’t afford to get caught doing it. He took the tiniest of leaps of faith and thought that in reality, how could anyone find out? Possibilities. Possibilities. He double checked his controller’s neutral setting and pragmatically concluded; “No guts, no glory.”
He came to the “Esperanza” sign and thought he might be getting close, so he, like Joshua, sought the shelter of the cactus patches, walking close to them.
With the sun behind him Joshua saw his man first and yelled; “Ares.” Instinctively Ares went right for his “silver bullet,” and drew, but as he raised his hand to fire, it hit a branch of a giant saguaro and the spines made him pull back dropping the “silver bullet.” Joshua drew at the same time, but effectively fired, sending Ares to oblivion. Joshua immediately felt guilty. He had not the slightest degree of remorse about defending himself, but he realized that the saguaro had possibly saved his life, after he had obliterated a few of its relatives.
He walked to it; saying; “Thanks. Sorry. You’re a forgiving species. I’ll find some way to pay you back.”
Joshua heard Becky yell; “I saw that.” She ran to the spot and picked up Ares’ “silver bullet.” Instinctively Joshua
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pointed his at her, but succeeded only in making him disgusted with himself. He put it back in his pocket.
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